


Don't Forgive Me

by HipHopAnonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Angst, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Cunnilingus, Emotional Manipulation, Forced Orgasm, Gabriel Has a Penis (Good Omens), Gaslighting, Graphic Rape, Happy Ending, Hemipenes, Hurt/Comfort, Manipulation, Masturbation, Mind Control, Other, Penis In Vagina Sex, Rape, Reference to harsh but vague discipline, Self-Loathing, Victim Blaming, Violence, sad wanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2020-06-26 20:45:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19776094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HipHopAnonymous/pseuds/HipHopAnonymous
Summary: After the Apocalypse does not happen, Heaven still isn't happy with Aziraphale. Gabriel takes it upon himself to help his subordinate manage his sinful desires and weakness for earthly pleasures. If Aziraphale can be fully "satisfied" then there shouldn't be a need for any more "fraternizing" with a certain demon.Crowley stumbles upon the scene and eavesdrops.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn't get this kink meme prompt out of my head:
> 
> "Gabriel isn’t satisfied that Aziraphale escaped any punishment, so he gets creative. Aziraphale with a vulva/vagina preferred (possibly Gabriel forces the form?) and set in Aziraphale’s bookshop.
> 
> Bonus: Crowley attempts to come to the rescue and instead is forced to watch, with the mixed feelings of horror, fury, and arousal at watching his angel come again and again while being violated."

Things had been calm. Normal. It would have been a relief except for that constant nagging in the back of his skull that the other shoe was about to drop. 

Crowley slouched down the busy sidewalk in Soho, barely noticing the humans quickly passing by. Lately, he found himself wandering down this street more and more often, having grown used to the frequent company of a certain angel. In fact, he had spent more time with Aziraphale in the days since the world didn’t end than he had for the six thousand years prior. Not that he was complaining. The imminent war had given him the first taste of fleetingness in his immortal life. He’d wasted too much time being lonely. He wasn’t about to continue making that same mistake.

It was still early (ish) and the bookshop wasn’t yet open. Not unusual, and really no matter. With a snap of his fingers, Crowley let himself in. He was just short of tapping on the door to Aziraphale’s private rooms when he heard voices.

“You know what really, _really_ irks me about this whole nightmare?”

Gabriel. The other shoe had dropped. 

“What really irks me is that all your treachery and foolishness came from such base desires. I mean, really, Aziraphale? Spreading your legs for a demon?”

“No! You’re mistaken, Gabriel! I’ve never – would never – ”

“Can it, princess. You’ve been seen. _Many_ times. Do you really think Heaven never noticed? We’ve been watching you _fraternize_ with the Demon Crowley for years.”

Crowley’s blood ran cold. Surely, Heaven didn’t think Aziraphale would lower himself to engage in carnal relations with a demon? The Arrangement was bad enough, but apparently Gabriel and his lackeys had seen them together and made the mental leap from friends to lovers – 

– and it _was_ a mental leap since Crowley had most certainly never touched Aziraphale that way. He had never even thought of the angel that way. Had never lusted for his best friend. Had never imagined how the skin of the angel’s neck would taste under his serpentine tongue. Had certainly never considered how those plump buttocks and thick thighs would look absent a pair of sharp – if old-fashioned – trousers. Or what sounds the angel might make under the ministrations of Crowley’s mouth.

Except that he most definitely had and very often at that. His initial fondness for Aziraphale that had sprouted on the Garden wall developed over the years, flourishing into something as close to love as a demon could get. Aziraphale was kind, pure, intelligent, and as tempting as any forbidden fruit ever was. Crowley longed to take a (gentle) bite of that sweet, juicy flesh.

But Aziraphale would never be interested in _that_. Certainly not with Crowley – a demon. Whenever they were together and Crowley felt his desire bubble to the surface – the suggestion tripping on the tip of his tongue – he forced himself to imagine the horrified, disgusted face the angel would surely make in response. That always worked to shut himself up. Why would the angel want to sully himself with one so tainted – fallen? No, a demon wasn’t worthy of Aziraphale. He wondered how anyone could ever doubt the angel’s chastity as he continued to eavesdrop. 

“I-I mean, I’ve spoken with … that demon before. I could hardly avoid running into him while thwarting – ” 

Aziraphale sounded so ashamed, so nervous. Crowley closed his yellow eyes and telepathically looked into the room. He needed to see this conversation for himself. That bastard Gabriel was always treating Aziraphale like garbage. Crowley had seen it himself in Heaven. The Archangel was nothing but a pompous hypocrite in a showy suit.

“Thwarting?” Gabriel snorted, and Crowley had to bite back an angry hiss. “Is that what they’re calling it down here these days?” The archangel chuckled darkly. “I really should have known. You’ve always been, well, _weak_ when it comes to earthly pleasures. All that food, Aziraphale …”

A sore spot. Unfair. Cruel. Crowley could see the angel’s throat bob, tears welling up in his eyes before he replied thickly. “That’s … that’s entirely different.”

“Is it?” Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “Sins of the flesh are of the same ilk. An appetite for one is surely evidence of an appetite for all.”

Aziraphale took a deep, patient breath, “Gabriel. I’m telling you that I’m … virginal.”

“Please – there’s no need to lie, Aziraphale. I’m here to help you.”

Gabriel began to pace in the small room. Crowley recognized it instantly as predator circling his prey. The archangel shrugged out of his jacket, carefully hanging it on the coatrack. Aziraphale watched him, brows furrowed with that sweet, confused face like a baby deer lost in the wood. 

Gabriel pulled his sweater over his head to reveal a tanned, muscled torso and continued to talk, “It really is my fault, Aziraphale. I’m willing to take the blame on this one. As your superior, you’re my responsibility. It’s my job to give you what you need to keep you on the path of righteousness.”

He flicked his wrist and Aziraphale fell back onto the sofa as if pushed, mouth opening with a surprised little “oh!” Another wave from Gabriel, and Aziraphale was naked. He gasped, snapping his legs together and crossing his arms over his stomach. 

Crowley swallowed thickly. Aziraphale’s body was all curves – soft and pale and trembling. It would be arousing under different circumstances. _Would_ be. But certainly wasn’t. The demon pointedly ignored the interest growing in his trousers.

“Gabriel, please. I haven’t done anything. I don’t understand … what _is_ this?” Aziraphale blushed and squirmed.

“Oh, come on, Aziraphale. Don’t play coy. Like I said, I’m here to help.” 

Gabriel reach out slowly as though he was trying not to spook a timid foal and ran his hand gently down Aziraphale’s flank. Aziraphale flinched, and his body seemed to shrink as he hugged himself tightly and closed his eyes.

“P-please, Gabriel. I think you’ve the wrong idea. I promise. I’ve never – ” 

“Of _course_ not,” Gabriel said with a conspiratorial wink. “And that’s what I’ll tell them back home. I just need to know …” he slipped a hand between Aziraphale’s thighs, “That you’ve been taken care of, so you won’t be tempted to sin again.”

“No!” Aziraphale pushed Gabriel’s hand away and tried to get up, scrambling to escape. Immediately, he was slammed onto his back on the sofa, an invisible force pinioning his arms above his head.

“Stop being difficult!” Gabriel barked, the former geniality momentarily gone. He took a deep breath and softened again. He cupped Aziraphale’s face in his hand. “Don’t you _want_ to be forgiven? Welcomed back into the Kingdom of Heaven?”

At that, Aziraphale gave a small sob, because of _course_ he wanted that. More than anything. Crowley had tried to deny it, tried to imagine that it wasn’t that important to his angel, but he _knew_. Aziraphale could never give up on Heaven completely. A fallen angel certainly knew that. Knew the pain of Heaven lost – like a gaping wound in one’s soul.

“The decision regarding your fate may have been put on hold due to whatever little trick you and your boyfriend cooked up,” Gabriel continued, “but don’t think for one second that you’re off the hook, Aziraphale. The others are very angry, but I convinced them that I’d take care of it. And that,” he pried Aziraphale’s thighs open, “is what I’m going to do.”

Crowley realized he’d been holding his breath, and he let it out at the sight of smooth flesh between Aziraphale’s legs. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it stood to reason.

Gabriel exhaled in annoyance. “I’m going to need you to make a little effort here, sweetheart!”

Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head fiercely. “I c-can’t! I can’t – I’m s-sorry!”

Crowley felt a spike of fury. How dare Aziraphale be made to apologize. How dare Gabriel expect the angel to be complicit in his own rape.

“You – we don’t have to do this, Gabriel,” Aziraphale begged, opening his now glassy eyes, chin wobbling. “Please, don’t do this.”

Gabriel smiled, “This is for the best. You’ll see.”

The archangel cupped his hand against the skin of Aziraphale’s crotch, making him squirm in discomfort. There was a sudden crack that echoed through the shop, the spark of magic in the air palpable. Aziraphale arched his back and shrieked in agony.

“There now,” Gabriel said. “Much better.” 

He wasted no time in forcing a finger inside Aziraphale’s newly manifested cunt. He gave only a few experimental jabs before adding a second digit. Aziraphale whimpered and squirmed, unable to move away with his wrists still magically bound. 

Crowley could hardly believe what he had just witnessed. Just how powerful was the Archangel Gabriel? Had he really just altered the body of another angel so easily?

“You’re so tight!” Gabriel said with appreciation, lust. Fucking hypocrite. He continued to work his fingers inside the angel. His thrusts were sharp and cruel, accompanied by a distinct slick sounding squelch and the angel’s grimaces. “Is this not the way you usually do it?”

“I told you, I _don’t_!” Aziraphale spat through gritted teeth, his tone a mix of anger, betrayal, and anguish.

Gabriel hummed skeptically. “Don’t worry, buttercup. No one needs to know anything. I’ll confirm your virtue to anyone who asks.”

Crowley tried to shake himself out of his stupor. Why was he still just watching? Things had gone far enough, surely. Burst in. Stop this. Do _something_. 

Crowley did nothing, cowed by the Archangel’s display of immense power. _Weakling_. Frozen in shock and fear. _Coward_. Filled with unbidden, unwanted, disgusting arousal. _Pervert._ Unforgiveable. Damned. _Snake_.

He tried to focus only on the horror before him, ignoring the baffling desire spiking through his body at the sight. Gabriel finally slid his fingers out of Aziraphale, mindlessly wiping them on a cushion. Crowley half expected Aziraphale to protest the treatment of the fabric, and he had to bite his forked tongue to stop a manic laugh at the absurdity of the thought.

Gabriel reached down to unfasten his trousers, leaving them mostly on, but pulling out a very sizeable cock. Crowley sneered and thought that the Archangel should examine his _own_ vanity and pride before casting stones at Aziraphale.

“Please, don’t,” Aziraphale said softly, blinking his big hazel, pleading eyes, as tears rolled down his cheeks, “Please.”

Gabriel silenced the angel’s pleas with a mockery of a kiss – lips pressed against Aziraphale’s closed mouth accompanied by a chiding murmur, “Hush.” 

He forced his impressive length into the angel’s unwilling body, and Aziraphale gasped at the intrusion. Gabriel took the opportunity to push his tongue into his mouth. He began to move slowly, rolling his hips with a satisfied moan. He took his time – savoring. Aziraphale groaned pitifully and writhed beneath the Archangel, heels digging into the cushions of the sofa in a futile attempt to get away.

Gabriel trailed kisses down Aziraphale's jaw and the angel shuddered. Gabriel grinned, “Well, I, for one, think this feels great. I can definitely see why you’d be tempted, Aziraphale.”

The angel didn’t respond, keeping his eyes squeezed shut, face contorted in misery.

“Oh, come on – lighten up!” Gabriel continued. “You’re allowed to enjoy it! Here – ”

He pulled out and easily flipped Aziraphale onto his frontside – whatever supernatural tethers were binding the angel’s wrists somehow gave the Archangel no trouble while keeping Aziraphale bound. Gabriel grasped the angel’s hips and pulled him to his knees, wasting little time before spreading Aziraphale’s reluctant pussy and sinking into him again, this time picking up the pace and brutally snapping his hips again and again.

The angle made Aziraphale yelp in pain at every thrust.

 _Move!_ Crowley’s mind screamed at him. _Get in there. Tear him off, tear him apart. Take the angel’s place. ANYTHING!_ But Crowley just watched, horrified and fascinated. Aziraphale wouldn’t want him to see this, right? Surely, stepping in now would only embarrass the angel. _Then just leave, dammit._ He didn’t.

Aziraphale’s yelps had escalated into shrieks and Gabriel made an exasperated sigh, slowing his pace again. 

“No need for the hysterics,” He gave his head a pointed tilt and suddenly the angel’s cries were muffled, though Gabriel hadn’t lifted either hand to cover his mouth. His fingers still dug into the soft flesh of Aziraphale’s hips.

With his mouth covered by some supernatural force, Aziraphale’s pathetic cries were quieted. If anything, it made the sound more pitiful, and Gabriel paused, rolling his eyes. 

“Come on, Aziraphale,” he urged impatiently. “You’re supposed to be enjoying this,” He began to thrust slow and hard. “There’s no point if you don’t get off.”

Aziraphale emphatically shook his head, mumbling something against the invisible muzzle. 

“What was that?” Gabriel flicked his wrist and the angel drew in a gasping breath.

“I can’t!”

“Of course you can, just focus on how – it – feels,” he emphasized the words with sharp thrusts of his hips. 

“Really – I can’t! I’m sorry, Gabriel. Please, forgive me …” he was starting to sob now, and Crowley’s heart twisted in pain. “I just … can’t!”

“Performance anxiety is very common. I see how it is,” Gabriel nodded in a façade of understanding.

Then snapped his fingers.

Aziraphale’s eyes went wide and he shouted, entire body convulsing in what was clearly a mix of overwhelming pleasure and pain as an orgasm was magically wrenched from his body.

“Now that’s,” Gabriel’s eyes rolled back in his head and as Aziraphale’s cunt pulsated around his cock, “more like it!”

Crowley’s mouth went dry. Time stood still. He couldn’t breathe. 

Gabriel, however, resumed fucking. “How about another one, Aziraphale?” He snapped his fingers again and the angel arched his back. “Again!” another snap.

“No more – please!” Aziraphale was gulping for air as he shook, wet eyes bulging.

Gabriel snapped again anyway and Aziraphale screamed, pure agony on his red, tear streaked face.

It went on. The entire world was nothing but the sound of Gabriel's rutting, the relentless magical snap of fingers, and Aziraphale's screams and shouts. Time seemed to stretch into eternity for Crowley, though it couldn't have been longer than mere minutes.

“Oh, yes!” Gabriel practically roared as his own pleasure peaked. When he came, a pair of enormous ivory wings erupted from his shoulder blades – visible for only a moment before vanishing, leaving nothing but an after echo flash of light outlined in the air.

He collapsed, panting on top of Aziraphale’s trembling body as the angel continued to murmur, “No more, please, no more, please … ” in a soft, pathetic chant beneath him. Gabriel pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s temple, and the angel flinched away as though burned. The Archangel seemed to take no notice, pushing up to stand, and looking rather pleased with himself.

Gabriel wasted no time in miracling back into his clothes, not a thread out of place, hair perfectly coiffed – no evidence at all that anything untoward had just occurred. A stark contrast to Aziraphale, whose hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, legs akimbo, the essence of Archangel leaking down the insides of his thighs. His brow furrowed and his eyes screwed shut. Completely wrecked and still shaking.

“Well!” Gabriel said, clasping his hands and nodding as though they had just finished a very productive board meeting. “I really hope this has helped you.”

Aziraphale didn’t respond.

Gabriel pursed his lips. “A thank you would be appreciated, Aziraphale. Your behavior can be forgiven now.” A threat lurked beneath the surface – forgiveness _can_ be given, not _will_ be given. Aziraphale was at Gabriel’s mercy.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale whispered.

Gabriel turned to look directly into Crowley’s eyes ( _How!?_ ) and smirked. “You’re welcome.” He winked and Crowley staggered backwards, his view into the room vanished as his psychic concentration was shattered.

Gabriel had _seen_ him. Had known he was there. The whole time? Gabriel knew. He _knew_. He knew what the demon wanted from Aziraphale, and had purposefully taken it first. Rubbed it in Crowley’s face. Had made a mockery of something that should have been beautiful. This was just as much punishment for Crowley as it had been for Aziraphale. Gabriel had known the demon would be there. This was no accident. It was a set-up. He’d been given a front row seat to watch his angel suffer while he cowered in shame. Everyone had played their fated roles perfectly.

Gabriel’s voice carried loudly through the door, “I expect no further _consorting_ with any demons will be necessary from here on. It was a pleasure _knowing_ you today, Aziraphale,” a cruel chuckle. “Until next time.” 

Crowley stumbled to the door, knocking over a stack of books – too loud, far too loud, Aziraphale would hear – before crashing out the door and into the street.

_Later –_

Crowley awoke in a cold sweat, thrashing against the bed sheets tangled around his clammy body. He tore them away and sat up, panting. Dream images flashed through his mind – Aziraphale naked, crying, writhing in a mix of pleasure and agony. But in his dreams, it was Crowley himself instead of Gabriel who was holding the angel down and fucking brutally into him. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyelids and tried to slow the hammer of his heart.

His traitorous cock was painfully hard. With a resigned breath he took himself in hand. He fell back onto the bed, working his fist over his erection, chasing orgasm as quickly as possible to get it over with.

Crowley tried so hard not to think, to just focus on the sensations and get off, but unbidden images kept surfacing. Every degrading moment he’d seen of Aziraphale’s violation – and many more he imagined all on his own. Terrible, glorious, heinous, wonderful images propelled his desire. 

At his peak, an unearthly snarl ripped from his throat in aroused fury. _Fuck fuck fuck!_ He was coming over his hand and imagining it splattering across a pale, fleshy, trembling backside. 

He lay there, eyes closed, sticky and wretched. _Disgusting_. Truly nothing more than a lowly serpent. _For as long as you live, you will crawl on your belly and eat dirt._ Unworthy of an angel’s grace. Unforgiveable.

“I forgive you,” Aziraphale had once told him.

_Don’t._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow we did not get to the comfort portion in this chapter. Apologies!

Crowley brought Aziraphale expensive pastries from a fancy little French shop all the way across town. The pleasure in the angel’s eyes made his heart ache. He carefully watched Aziraphale choose which little delight to taste first, waiting for something to seem amiss, but everything felt astoundingly normal. So he didn’t say anything.

Crowley took him to dinner at Palm Court for a change of pace. He scrutinized Aziraphale’s face over the menu from which he was going to order little more than wine anyway, but nothing felt wrong there either. The angel muttered happily to himself as he decided what to eat just like he always did. So Crowley swallowed his words and said nothing except, “Why not order both? My treat, Angel.”

They went to the cinema. “Which film should we see?” the angel pursed his lips at the movie posters lined up outside. “Whatever you want, Angel. I’ll get you some nibbles.”

Weeks passed. Then months. The angel and demon continued with their comfortable comradery, and on the surface, everything was _fine_. Except of course for the bitter sickness lodged in the pit of Crowley’s stomach that seemed to roil and grow more and more as time passed. Crowley had always been accommodating, even indulgent with Aziraphale, so the angel didn’t seem to notice the demon’s extra placation. He was none the wiser and shockingly, _disturbingly_ tickety-fucking-boo.

Perhaps Crowley should have just said something right away – admitted that he knew, that he’d _seen_ , but then it was too late. And he just couldn’t bring himself admit that he had been such a coward. He certainly couldn’t admit that he was a disgusting little lecher who couldn’t get the images of his best friend’s rape out of his wretched mind. 

He wondered if Aziraphale had been in contact with Gabriel. He didn’t ask. The few times he started to, he quickly aborted, finding no way to sound casual. He simply hoped not.

So Crowley let it go, let it all go, quashing his guilt the best he could and secretly making it up to the angel whenever possible.

*********************

Crowley shuffled through yet another enormous stack of loose-leaf papers and manila folders. He had agreed to assist Aziraphale in “organizing” the bookshop, but it had mostly been Crowley picking up books or documents and setting them down somewhere else – if they weren’t quickly snatched away by the angel first.

He was idly flipping through a pile when a particularly damned (or was it blessed?) folder sliced a sharp cut across the pad of his forefinger. He dropped the documents and cursed, hissing and giving his hand a shake. 

“Oh, dear!” Aziraphale was suddenly beside him, taking Crowley’s hand into his own. “Oh, my, I’m sure that smarts.” And before the demon could blink, Aziraphale brought the finger to his mouth and closed his lips around the tip. He shut his eyes and caressed the injured pad gently with his tongue.

Time stretched and Crowley could do nothing but stare, dumbfounded, jaw slack. It was obscene. There was a rushing, roaring in his ears and his cock (had it even been there a moment ago?) throbbed so hard it hurt. Finally, he let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Aziraphale opened his eyes and suddenly seemed to realize what he’d just done. Dark pink color flushed across his face and he quickly popped his lips off Crowley’s finger.

“Here,” he said, touching the cut gently and miracling it away.

Crowley cocked an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be cutting back on frivolous miracles?”

“My dear, there’s absolutely nothing frivolous about it.”

And then Crowley kissed him. For an earth shattering moment, the angel was completely still, and Crowley feared he had made a grave error, but then the angel melted against Crowley’s lips and parted his own.

Their tongues roamed inside one another’s mouths, wet, hungry. Crowley _wanted_ so much, and his hands ran over Aziraphale’s body – down his sides, up his back, over his arms – completely unable to settle. After a time, he broke away from Aziraphale’s delicious mouth to kiss down his chin, tasting his neck with tongue and gentle teeth. The angel gave a breathy moan. 

The demon was absolutely on _fire_ , and he got greedy. His hands made their way to the front of Aziraphale’s trousers and he fiddled with the button for only a moment before the angel gently pushed him away.

“N-no,” Aziraphale let out a shuddering breath. His cheeks were flushed, lips plump and moist from the snogging.

Crowley was already shaking his head in agreement, “Sorry, sorry … ‘course. I didn’t mean … I shouldn’t have – ” what on earth had he been thinking, pawing at Aziraphale like an animal in heat after … after what had happened. 

Crowley began to pull away, but Aziraphale stopped him. “We don’t have to stop!” Aziraphale assured him, “It’s fine, I just … I’d rather …”

The angel sank to his knees and Crowley thought his heart was going to stop and he was going to discorporate right out of the bookshop. Aziraphale timidly put a hand against the erection straining behind his trousers.

“Is this all right?” Aziraphale whispered, licking his well-kissed lips and looking up at Crowley from beneath pale lashes.

“Y-yes,” Crowley croaked out and cleared his throat, “Heaven’s sake, yes. ‘Nything you want, angel.”

Aziraphale smiled shyly before focusing on undoing the button and zipper on Crowley’s fitted jeans. The look of rapt concentration on the angel’s face as though he were opening some very important treasure made Crowley feel lightheaded and he placed a hand on the table to steady himself. The pressure of Aziraphale’s fingers and palm as he gently pulled out his cock was almost too much and he had to take several deep breaths. 

Aziraphale stuck out his tongue and licked tentatively against the head, tasting what was surely already a noticeable amount of salty issue. The angel lapped at Crowley’s cockhead with fervor, savoring as though it were an ice-cream cone.

“ _Ffffffuck_ …”

 _Whatever you do, don’t think about … that._ Crowley forced himself to concentrate only on this moment. And what a moment it was. Aziraphale may have lacked experience, but he was certainly well-read and _very_ enthusiastic. The angel pulled Crowley’s erection into his mouth through tight, wet lips, flicking his tongue and _sucking_ him down and holy fuck the demon had _never_ seen anything on Earth or in Hell so sinful as Aziraphale's sweet mouth swallowing his cock.

The angel bobbed his head and Crowley’s fingernails dug into his palms as he made tight fists. He yearned to reach out and stroke Aziraphale’s soft, white hair, but he felt he oughtn’t. He kept as still as possible, afraid to distract or disturb or upset him. He couldn’t bear the thought of ruining _this_. This blissful perfection. It wasn’t just sex – it was love. It was magic. His skin had been burning, pining for the angel's touch for eons.

Crowley moaned and gasped his way through his building orgasm. “Zira-Azira … Aziraphale! I’m going to …”

Aziraphale hummed, showing no signs of slowing down, and Crowley closed his eyes and his body jerked when he came, throbbing into the angel’s mouth. Aziraphale choked, gagging, and Crowley’s eyes snapped open, all concern and worry.

“SSssssorry,” he hissed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have – are you all right?”

Aziraphale waved his hand and _chuckled_. “It’s fine, really! It was just … a bit more intense than I was expecting.”

“Sure was,” Crowley grinned. Some of the cum was dribbling down Aziraphale's chin and he wiped primly at it with his fingers ( _and wasn’t that just the sexiest fucking thing he’d ever seen?_ If Crowley hadn’t just orgasmed, his cock would certainly have been interested in _that_.) He pulled the angel to his feet and reached tentatively again for the front of Aziraphale’s trousers. “Please, let me … it’s only fair, Angel. Would never want anyone to accuse me of being a selfish lover ... ”

“I’m fine,” voice clipped, matter of fact as he grasped Crowley's hands in his own, keeping them well away from between his legs. “Perfectly fine. I’m entirely … satisfied.” 

Crowley gave him an uncertain, disbelieving look.

“Really,” Aziraphale assured him, bringing the demon's hands to his mouth to press gentle kisses along his fingers. “Everything is fine.”

Everything was clearly not fine.

**************************

Aziraphale was content again. Everything was _fine_. And if for a moment here or there it felt like things _weren’t_ fine, he stamped down on the feeling, kicking it into a back corner of his mind to be forgotten. Or at least ignored.

He and Crowley had settled back into their comfortable familiarity (perhaps a bit more than merely familiar on one recent special occasion). The angel couldn’t help but smile. It was the confirmation he’d been yearning for – not only did the demon like him – love him even – but he _wanted_ him. The thought made his heart flutter …

… before it sank. Aziraphale wasn’t quite the celestial being Crowley certainly imagined him to be, was he? He was tainted. He’d spent millennia waiting, hoping, but it had all been ruined. Aziraphale tried to forget it, but it weighed heavily on his mind. Especially now that he knew Crowley was _interested_. The guilt gnawed at him. Was lying by omission the same as outright lying? What would the Almighty think about that?

Aziraphale was just pouring some steaming cocoa into his mug, humming softly to himself, when he was disturbed by a gentle breeze and the ruffle of feathers behind him. 

“Well, hello – ” he turned and the white-winged mug slipped from his fingers, scalding liquid slopping over the side, mere inches from shattering on the ground when it was quickly miracled full and upright on the table.

“Careful,” Gabriel grinned and winked, “That was a close one!”

“G-Gabriel! I wasn’t expecting – I didn’t realize – I’m not – ”

The Archangel put up his hands, “Just a routine check-in, no need to panic.”

Panic was miles behind the icy terror creeping up Aziraphale’s spine. He struggled to swallow the thick lump in his throat and willed his heart and breath to slow.

“Gabriel,” his voice was wobbly. _Relax, just relax!_ “What brings you here?”

“Nothing in particular,” Gabriel absently picked up a random book and pretended to flip through it before tossing it aside. “I just wanted to be sure things were … ok.”

“O-of course. No problems at all. Everything absolutely t-tickety-boo …” he was rambling, speaking too quickly, eyes darting about the room. 

“No problems with any … demons?” Casual. Smooth. Dangerous.

“Of course not!” Aziraphale nearly squeaked. He coughed. “N-no. Everything’s been … quiet. Haven’t noticed a … a thing. I mean, I almost wonder if Hell doesn’t have any demons at all still in this region. Perhaps we, uh, frightened them away!” The ‘everything is just peachy thank you very much’ smile didn’t reach his eyes. 

Gabriel was suddenly right behind Aziraphale, and the angel tensed in terror. 

“Relax, Aziraphale,” the Archangel murmured. 

He placed his hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders, making him wince. Gabriel began to rub his large, strong hands up and down Aziraphale’s arms, over his shoulders and down his back, along the sides of his hips. 

“You’re so tense. You need to relax,”

“I … I … ” Aziraphale’s throat was beginning to constrict. 

Gabriel leaned forward, a breath ghosting against Aziraphale’s ear that raised gooseflesh on the back of his neck. 

“Is there anything you need, Aziraphale?” the Archangel flicked his tongue against Aziraphale’s earlobe. 

“No!” the angel gasped, trembling, but otherwise unable to move. "N-no, thank you."

“Because if you’re finding the same temptations … difficult to manage … I’m always here.”

“Please, Gabriel. Everything is fine! There’s been no … temptation – I swear!” 

The lie felt bitter on his tongue. He’d lied to Gabriel before, of course – little white lies or exaggerations to keep in the Archangel’s good graces, but it suddenly felt _wrong_ to lie about what had happened between Crowley and himself. To imply that it hadn’t happened, that the demon was nobody to him.

But he had to. He just couldn’t bear … not again. _Please forgive me, my love. I’m weak._

Gabriel nuzzled at the back of Aziraphale’s neck, “All right, then. Just … be careful, Aziraphale.”

And with that he was gone. Vanished, presumably back to Heaven.

Aziraphale collapsed to his knees, desperately gulping in air, shuddering. He struggled with his blazer, wrenching it off and tossing it across the room. He thought he might be sick. He breathed slowly in and out through his nose and swallowed the bile. He rubbed furiously at his neck, his ear, his arms. He wanted a bath.

He’d briefly entertained the notion that Gabriel was finished with him, bored after proving his point. The Archangel didn’t like to “sully his celestial body” after all – at least that was what he’d said.

Aziraphale was the one who felt sullied, in both mind and body. Falling apart and completely shattering in Gabriel’s presence had confirmed that. He wanted to pretend. He wanted Crowley. He didn’t want to be a tainted angel. But despite all his power, he couldn't change what had been. Immortal life was damned unfair. 

_Maybe it would be better to fall._ The mad thought burst out of nowhere. It was an insane notion, and the thought terrified him – even more than Gabriel did. It wouldn’t just be Gabriel he was leaving behind, after all. And besides, would Crowley even still want him if he were a demon? Surely not. It was a stupid idea to even entertain. His angelic state was what made him appealing to Crowley. All demons longed for even the tiniest piece of Heaven, didn't they?

It didn't matter anyway. He had spent time with Crowley under false pretenses. If the demon knew ... Aziraphale couldn't be what Crowley wanted. Not anymore.

_I’m so sorry, my dear, my love. I'm sorry I lied. Forgive me._


	3. Chapter 3

Crowley was on Cloud Nine, as it were, after he and Aziraphale had been, well, the angel would probably say _intimate_. Actually, Crowley was sure Aziraphale could come up with an even more prudish, old-fashioned term for what had transpired. Crowley, however, was content to think in cruder terms. He liked thinking “the angel sucked me off.” He really enjoyed “I got the best head ever.” He loved “I fucked his mouth.” And he occasionally tented his trousers thinking “I came right down his throat, watched him choke, and some of my spunk dripped down his chin.” Demons’ minds tended to filth, after all. At least he finally had some new fantasy fodder that didn’t make him feel guilty. Aziraphale had seemed enthusiastic about it, so things were all good now, right?

Unfortunately, Crowley’s joy quickly soured in the days to follow their _intimate_ little encounter.

One afternoon, after sharing some Indian takeout, Crowley came up behind Aziraphale at the refrigerator and wrapped his arms around him, resting his chin on the angel’s shoulder. Aziraphale patted his hand and slipped out of Crowley’s embrace, feigning interest in tidying up the kitchen table. Crowley stood stunned for several moments before busying himself with the dishes.

Another day as they drove to brunch, Crowley placed a hand on Aziraphale’s thigh, but the angel shifted, crossing his legs away and Crowley’s hand slipped off. He brought it back to the steering wheel after the rebuke, chest stinging.

They strolled through the park and he tried to lace his fingers through Aziraphale’s, but the angel pulled his hand away a little too quickly to be natural in order to point at an ice-cream cart.

“I’m going to get something. Do you want anything?” _I wanted to hold your hand._ Crowley merely shook his head no and shoved thumbs in his pockets.

Finally, after a few (all right, more than a few) glasses of wine one evening, Crowley set his sunglasses aside and tried to kiss him. It was perhaps a foolish move after having been several times denied, but he was drunk, he was horny, and he wanted answers.

Crowley could have sworn he felt Aziraphale return the kiss for just a brief moment. Then the angel drew back, gently pushing at Crowley’s chest, and stood up. He needlessly adjusted his bowtie and then moved towards the kitchen.

“I think I have a bit of cheese, my dear, to go with the wine. Let me just check. I could - ”

“I don’t want any _fucking_ cheese, Aziraphale!” Crowley shouted.

Aziraphale winced. “Oh, well, then, in that case - ”

“I want to know what’s the _matter_ with you!”

“Nothing’s the matter with me!”

“Something is! I thought things were … going well, but you won’t even let me touch you since we . . . ” Crowley swallowed and blushed. _Thinking_ lewd thoughts was far easier than voicing them. He waved his hand vaguely, “You know!”

Aziraphale also blushed. “Oh. Well, I just thought that maybe . . . maybe doing,” he swallowed, “... things like that wasn’t the best idea after all.”

“Why not?” Crowley scoffed. “I certainly enjoyed it, and I _thought_ you did. Didn’t you?”

Aziraphale sighed and shrugged, face pink, “I-I suppose it was … enjoyable, but that’s beside the point -”

“That’s the _whole_ point! Come on, Angel, if we both want it, then what’s the problem?”

Aziraphale clasped his hands and looked at a point past Crowley’s head, speaking in a very strange manner as though he had practiced this speech before, “Well, what we _think_ we want may in fact not _really_ be what we want. You may not have all the relevant information, and so it’s for the best if we just go back to how things were. Before.”

“What d’you mean? What ‘relevant information’? All that matters is that you want me, and I want you -”

“But you don’t!” Aziraphale cried. He took a deep breath. He looked to the ceiling, rims of his eyes wet, and repeated more quietly, “You don’t want me,” he raised his hands at Crowley’s bubbling protest, “I know! I know you think you do, but … you just . . . you don’t have all the facts. Your interest is misplaced.”

Crowley threw his hands in the air. “What in Heaven are you talking about? I thought you knew that I … that you knew how I felt. About you.”

Aziraphale emphatically shook his head. “No, no, no. I know we have a … a fondness for one another after all these years, but it just … can’t be. Not like that. It’s not possible. It isn’t right.”

“How is it not right? After everything we’ve been through, don’t we deserve it, Angel? The world almost ended, but it didn’t! We got a second chance, and I, for one, have no intention of wasting it. What was the point of it all if we can’t . . . if we aren’t . . . ”

“Safe?” Aziraphale finished with a sad half-smile. “But we’re not safe, you know. Not really.” His eyes were quite watery now and he whispered, “At least, I’m not.”

Frustration and alcohol were clouding Crowley’s judgment and without thinking he asked darkly, “Is this about Gabriel?”

Aziraphale paled, eyes wide. “What?” he breathed. “H-how do you - I mean, what do you … you can’t possibly ...” he trailed off, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

Crowley groaned and ran his hand over his face. _Idiot._ No going back now. “I saw it, ok? I walked into the shop at the wrong moment and I should have just left, but I heard that _bastard_ and I was worried, so I eavesdropped and then … I saw,” he looked at Aziraphale with pained eyes and his voice broke, “I saw what he did to you, Aziraphale. I’m really, really sorry. I should have told you before that I knew. Before we … before now.”

Well, there it was out in the open. Aziraphale stared in shock, not moving, not speaking.

Crowley put his sunglasses back on. “I’m sorry, Angel. I’m so sorry. I should have done something. I should have stopped it. I failed you. I’ll understand if … if you never want to talk to me again.”

“I think I need to sit down,” Aziraphale nearly swooned before plopping into a wingback chair.

They sat in awkward silence for several moments. Aziraphale’s lip was starting to wobble. He blinked rapidly, sniffled, and then buried his face in his hands and began to sob.

Crowley leapt up and rushed to his side, “Please, Angel, please don’t cry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s not … not your … fault,” Aziraphale said between hitched breaths. “He’s too strong. You couldn’t have st-stopped it.”

“I could have tried,” Crowley’s heart hurt and he had to blink back his own tears from behind the dark frames. “I wish I’d done _something_. I was just wretched … useless … spineless … ” _Serpentine_.

Aziraphale shook his head. “Oh stop! You would have just made it worse. It would have set him off, probably. And I don’t think I would have been able to stand seeing you at that moment when he was … when I was … like that.” He sighed and sniffled. “I just thought that maybe if you didn’t even know, it would be like it never happened. That I could forget it. But I felt so guilty. The whole time. So guilty for … for not coming clean to you.”

“Coming clean? What on earth are you talking about, Angel?” Crowley hovered next to Aziraphale, unsure if his touch would be wanted. He finally settled on placing a hand on the arm of the chair and squatting down to look up into the angel’s tearstained face.

“I wasn’t … I’m not … _pure_ ,” Aziraphale choked the word out with a sob. “And I let … _that_ happen between us anyway. Without telling you first. You must be disgusted!”

Crowley ran a hand through his hair, looking bewildered. “Aziraphale, that’s absurd! I mean, you don’t think that … I mean, I’m not … you didn’t think _I_ was … a virgin, did you?”

Aziraphale gave a humorless little laugh, “Oh, no, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous!”

Crowley gave the angel his best _what the fuck_ face. “Then what difference does it make?”

“Oh, well that’s different, you’re a _demon_. Your job and basic nature are different from mine. _I_ was supposed to be a pure, radiant being of love. But instead I’m … spoiled.”

 _Ouch._ Crowley was thankful his glasses hid the pained look that crossed his eyes at Aziraphale’s assumptions about demons. He brushed off the hurtful words and focused instead on the angel’s latter point. “Aziraphale, what are you talking about? You aren’t _spoiled_. You’re …” he wanted to say perfect, wonderful, magnificent, or something else terribly humiliating, but his throat closed up and he tripped over his forked tongue with embarrassment. “Y-you’re - just _you_.”

Aziraphale wiped at his face. Crowley miracled him a handkerchief, and the angel gladly took it, blowing his nose. “It’s just that I’d always been _waiting_ , you know,” he looked up at Crowley finally, eyes red and wet, “for you.”

Crowley was suddenly lightheaded. He removed the glasses, setting them on the lamp table and took Aziraphale’s hands in his own. “You needn’t have. I took way too long to realize you wanted that same things I did.”

Aziraphale’s breath hitched and he gave a small smile, “You did. I thought I made it rather obvious. I just assumed you didn’t think of me that way.”

“I did,” Crowley croaked, then cleared his throat. “I thought of you like that all the time. Every day.” He quickly realized exactly what he was saying and blushed. “I-I mean … I’m just saying that you’re lovely, Angel.”

“Oh, well, I don’t know about _that_ …” Aziraphale ducked his head.

Crowley ever so gently placed his fingertips beneath Aziraphale’s chin and lifted it back up.

“You are,” he said, yellow eyes intense, cheeks burning as he forced himself to say, “You’re gorgeous, perfect, and I love you and want you always. No matter what. I don’t care about what happened, and it wasn’t your fault. Don’t forget that I was there, Aziraphale. You didn’t _choose_ to be with Gabriel.” He hated even saying the Archangel’s name. “You didn’t choose it and so it doesn’t … it doesn’t _count_. I don’t blame you and it doesn’t make me want you any less.”

Aziraphale’s face softened and his chin wobbled, “Oh, Crowley …”

“I’m sorry you’ve felt so wretched, because I was too big of a moron to say anything. We should have talked about it. Gabriel is a terrible angel and a rotten prick.”

“And dangerous,” Aziraphale added, wringing the handkerchief in his hands. “He’s powerful. And has authority. I can’t just go against him. I’m expected to obey.”

“But Gabriel isn’t the _highest_ authority, Angel. You can’t really think Heaven or you-know-who sanctioned him to … to rape you.”

Aziraphale winced at the word, and Crowley’s heart hurt. Aziraphale seemed to consider things, but then shook his head. “I can’t be sure, really. I know it may have _looked_ terrible, but Gabriel could be in the right as far as Heaven and the Al- _She_ is concerned. Certainly _you_ remember how ruthless they can be up there!”

Now it was Crowley’s turn to wince. “I suppose so. It just doesn’t seem _right_.”

“It’s not for us to decide,” Aziraphale said sadly.

Crowley grimaced. “Do you think the Archangel is still a threat? I mean, do you think he’ll … come back for more?” Bile rose in his throat.

Aziraphale closed his eyes, trembling. He nodded.

Crowley’s frown deepened, “Has he been back already?”

He took a deep breath in and let it out. “Well, um … yes. B-but he didn’t really _do_ anything. He just made … some vague threats. Unfortunately, I think he’s still invested in … well, me.”

Crowley nodded, looking off into the distance. His eyes narrowed as he gaze became murderous. “Ok, I see. I understand. Well, we’ll just think of something. I’ll do whatever I can to protect you, Aziraphale.” Crowley stood up and began to pace the room. “Maybe we could hide. Or we could trick the Archangel somehow. Or I could stir up something really nasty, something truly _Hellish_ on Earth to distract him and the other angels. Yeah, that could work.” He was nodding to himself.

A hesitant spark of hope bloomed in Aziraphale’s eyes. “Maybe. Gabriel can be easily distracted. He isn’t usually all that interested in Earth to begin with. I didn’t even think he liked … human things. We could certainly try.”

They forewent wine for the remainder of the evening, focusing their minds on scheming. Crowley coming up with what he thought were brilliant Gabriel distraction ideas, but each one was met with uncertainty from Aziraphale. Still, the angel seemed more hopeful than distraught which was a big improvement. They just needed to be careful.They spent a great deal of time plotting, but they also just _talked_. And giggled, held hands, and both felt far, far better than they had in some time.

Finally, after several hours, Aziraphale’s eyelids began to droop.

“You should get some rest, Angel,” Crowley said, yawning. “Me, too.”

“Please, don’t leave,” Aziraphale said in a rush. “I mean … that is if you don’t mind -”

“Of course, I don’t mind! I wasn’t planning on leaving ...” Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. “No, no, I don’t mean … I wasn’t … I’ll stay just to _sleep_. I promise! I’ll just sleep here on the sofa.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Aziraphale gave him a shy smile. He made quick work of miracling two sets of pyjamas. “I wouldn’t mind a little cuddle.” He stood and handed the black set to Crowley while keeping the plaid for himself, “Let’s go to bed.”

* * *

Aziraphale blinked his eyes open. Soft beams of daylight streamed through a break in the curtains. If the brightness was any indication, it was already midday, yet he was still in bed. There was also a puzzling weight on his body.

 _Oh, yes, that’s right._ The weight was Crowley’s arm, draped across Aziraphale’s back. The angel carefully turned over to face Crowley, and the demon stirred but did not wake.

Aziraphale watched him sleep. Crowley’s reddish hair was mussed. His chest rose and fell slowly. His face was serene, blissful even in sleep. Aziraphale had never seen him so at peace. The demon was so often like a nervous bag of gangling energy. Aziraphale smiled at his slumbering face. It almost seemed to glow. While it was true that demons had been angels once, it always seemed that more angelic qualities lingered in Crowley than should have. He was simply radiant. And handsome. And _sexy_.

Aziraphale licked his lips. He wanted Crowley very much, and he remembered with a spark of relief, Crowley still wanted him back. Even though he knew all about Gabriel. The allure of angelic holiness in Aziraphale was strong enough to outweigh the taint Gabriel had left behind. It was thankfully enough to keep hold of Crowley’s love _and_ lust. Aziraphale’s relief was palpable.

He gazed longingly at Crowley’s parted lips, and felt a familiar stirring in his belly. And between his legs. _Oh._ He hadn’t quite meant to, but suddenly there was something _there_. Warm and tingly, aching and bereft as Aziraphale beheld the demon in his bed and let his mind wander.

Soon Crowley’s brow furrowed and he sniffed, his eyes fluttering as he stretched, yawned and looked up at Aziraphale. The angel blushed and averted his gaze, feeling as though he’d been caught doing something naughty.

“Mornin’, Angel,” Crowley gave him a lopsided, sleepy grin.

Aziraphale had to clear his throat, “G-good morning. Sleep well?”

“Best sleep I’ve ever had,” he said, giving Aziraphale a gentle squeeze with the arm slung across the angel’s body.

Aziraphale suddenly realized that their faces were very close. “I’m sorry about last night,” he opted for boldness, “I-I wish I had let you kiss me.”

Crowley smiled. “Never too late. So long as that's what you want.”

"Oh, it is."

There is no such thing as morning breath for angels or demons, and Crowley tasted of woodsmoke and cinnamon when their mouths joined. The kissing was gentle at first. Sweet, slow, tender pressing of lips against lips. But then their tongues got involved, and Crowley’s hands began to wander, slipping beneath Aziraphale’s shirt and igniting sparks where bare skin touched bare skin. Aziraphale clutched at Crowley’s shoulders and they moved. It was getting too warm, and he breathed heavily, loudly through his nose, heart hammering in his chest. Aziraphale kicked the blankets away and suddenly found himself nearly on top of Crowley. He was straddling the demon’s thigh and couldn’t stop the instinct to _thrust_ , the pressure kindling a wave of pleasure. A shameless moan slipped from his lips into Crowley’s mouth.

 _Good lord._ It was that _thing_ between his legs, wet and throbbing and _wanting._ He couldn’t help himself. He pulled away from Crowley’s lips, gasping and trembling.

“You all right, Angel?” Crowley asked, just as breathless, face flushed and looking about as debauched as Aziraphale felt. He realized that the insistent hardness prodding his hip was Crowley’s erection and a flood of desire shot through him. His body ignited, and he feared he may detonate at any moment.

“Yes, oh _yes_. Crowley, I need … I want …” he bit his lip, unsure. His need was strong, desperate, but it made his head swim in confusion.

“I’ve a good idea what you need, Angel,” Crowley said, easily flipping their positions so he hovered above. He watched Aziraphale’s face intently as he slowly and carefully ran a hand down the angel’s chest, over his belly, and to the waistband of his pyjama bottoms. “Is this okay? I really, really want to make you feel good, Angel.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes, his body on fire. He forced the tiny traces of Gabriel and guilt out of his mind. This was Crowley. This was different. He nodded. “Yes, yes, please. Anything.”

Crowley kissed him and then oh so carefully tugged his bottoms down and off, caressing his thighs and legs as he went. He pressed kisses to the arches of Aziraphale’s feet, his ankles, his calves, his knees. Aziraphale forced himself to relax and let his hesitant, trembling legs fall open, revealing the dewy pink folds between.

It was fine if Crowley wanted to fuck him. Aziraphale wanted him to. To lay claim and scrub away the tarnished memory of the Archangel. _Take me. Mend me. Save me. Please._ It was easy for Aziraphale to give into that fantasy. To that _temptation._

Crowley kissed the inside of his knee. “Lovely,” he murmured. “You know, I still owe you one from, um, before.”

Aziraphale barely had time to puzzle over the meaning of those words before Crowley kissed him right on the quim.

“Oh!” he instinctively snapped his thighs together, squeezing Crowley’s head momentarily and then spreading his thighs again. “Oh! Sorry, I’m sorry! It’s just you surprised me!”

“Sssss’okay, Angel,” Crowley hissed, sounding not the least bit put out at being potentially crushed between Aziraphale’s legs. He gripped the backs of the angel’s ample thighs, pushing them wide open, and then lapped gently along the angel’s slit, teasing his long tongue up, up, up to lick across the little pleasure nub. The serpent of Eden still knew how to use his tongue. It flicked and curled, and Aziraphale was ablaze.

“Oh, Crowley, _Crowley_!” He was panting, writhing, hands gripping the sheets and twisting them in his fingers, eyes screwed shut.

Crowley spread his thighs even wider, tongue unrelenting against the ascent of Aziraphale’s pleasure. It was a wondrous buzzing that spread from the point of Crowley’s tongue up into Aziraphale’s belly. More and more and more and then his thighs were shaking and he gasped out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as his cunt _erupted_ into throbbing bliss, the tide surging over his body. He arched his back and he heard a soft _rip!_ and a weighty _thwump!_ And then Crowley was _giggling_.

Aziraphale, still panting and shuddering, snapped his eyes open and saw white, downy feathers drifting around them.

“Oh!” his _wings_ were out, he realized, blushing. He’d torn right through his shirt.

That _hadn’t happened with Gabriel._ Probably because with Gabriel, the orgasms had _hurt_. There had been no gradual build up and release, but rather a terrible shooting pleasure-pain wrenched cold from nothing that had only left him nauseated.

Suddenly, Crowley’s tongue was on him again, flicking impossibly fast across his still tender clitoris, and Aziraphale wailed as the pleasure mounted more quickly this time. His wings flapped beneath him, beating in time with his heart, and nearly lifting him off the bed as the second _little death_ engulfed him. He quivered and gasped, feathers flying.

Oh yes, YES _this_ was something completely different than whatever disgraceful sham had happened with Gabriel. Now that Aziraphale knew what this was _supposed_ to feel like, well, he truly understood the appeal. Enjoying his body and finding pleasure with Crowley made it almost like he could forget about the Archangel. Almost.

He placed his hands against the top of Crowley’s head and pushed gently, unsure if he could take another and wanting to head off any _ideas_ the demon may have in mind.

“Ssssorry, Angel, I just couldn’t resist,” Crowley looked rather more pleased with himself than sorry, however.

“It’s quite … quite all right, darling,” Aziraphale said with a sex-drunk grin, his body still pleasantly tingling, “That was just … more than enough.” He sat up and saw the state of the room. “Oh, goodness, all those feathers. How … how silly of me.” With some effort, he tucked his wings away out of sight.

“I don’t mind,” Crowley said quickly, clearing away the mess of feathers with a snap of his fingers. “I’m glad. Happy to see you lose control and enjoy yourself.”

Aziraphale reached for Crowley, “My dear, let me return the pleasure, please,” he placed a hand on the demon’s thigh.

“Oh, nnng,” the demon’s face flushed. ‘W-well, there’s really no need …”

“Oh, come on, Crowley, I want to,” Aziraphale moved his hand northward, but Crowley caught it before he could find anything to work with.

“That’s very sweet, Angel, but I - ” his blush deepened, “I mean to say that … I already did.”

Aziraphale gave him a blank stare and the demon sighed.

“I mean I already finished. I came off when you did. The first time.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale’s eyebrows shot up. Then he smiled broadly. “Really?”

“Y-yeah, Angel, don’t rub it in. It’s just … the tasssste of you, and then your wings and the _sounds_ you were making, and … and I was able to, um, push against the bed a bit, and that was all it took.”

Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to blush and look down. “Well! Very good, then,” He gave Crowley a shy, darting look, “What a lovely compliment.”

“Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head,” he kissed him. “Or do. At least I didn’t expose my wings.” He winked and Aziraphale gave him a playful swat on the arm before returning the kiss.

They spent some time engaging in idle pillow talk, wrapped in each others arms, exchanging chaste kisses and caresses. The sun was already sinking low in the sky when they finally decided to get up.

“I never opened the shop today,” Aziraphale mused, slipping into a dark blue dressing gown and forsaking the wing-ripped pyjamas completely.

Crowley snorted, “Oh, who cares, Angel? It’s not like you really want to sell any books anyway.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips, “That’s not _entirely_ true, and I do need to keep up appearances. I’d best arrange some things for tomorrow and - oh! You ought to check on your plants, right?”

As was always the case, Crowley got the hint that Aziraphale was ready to spend some time alone. He nodded. Then he snapped his fingers and was back in his usual street clothes. “‘Course, of course. Yes, all right, I’ll be going, then … so long as you’re okay by yourself?”

Aziraphale gave him a thankful smile. It wasn’t that he had grown tired of Crowley’s company, he just needed to decompress and think. Alone. Crowley’s schemes and ideas for _dealing with_ Gabriel were commendable, but after over six thousand years, he no longer _really_ understand Heaven like Aziraphale did. The angel wanted some time to think by himself.

“I really do appreciate your concern,” Aziraphale said, “but I’m sure I can manage. There’s some reading I’d like to do, and I want to rearrange that front display before morning.”

“Of course, Angel, I don’t mind giving you some space,” Crowley smiled through the clear uncertainty in his eyes.

They kissed several more times, and then Aziraphale watched from the door as the Bentley squealed away down the street. He sighed happily, feeling thoroughly warm and spent. More at peace than he had been in ages.

Once the car was well out of sight, he turned and stretched before padding towards the back of the shop. Abruptly, he stopped short. A cold, creeping dread settled over him. His heart lurched when a figure emerged from a shadowed corner.

Gabriel’s glare was pure angelic fury. “I see you’re still playing the demon’s whore, Aziraphale. I’ll admit, I’m a little surprised and _very_ disappointed in you.”


	4. Chapter 4

_“I see you’re still playing the demon’s whore, Aziraphale. I’ll admit, I’m a little surprised and_ very _disappointed in you.”_

“Ga – Gabriel!” Aziraphale’s heart was in his throat. He stood frozen in fear, gaping at Gabriel, blinking in disbelief to find the Archangel in his shop. In a panic, he wondered how long Gabriel had been there. Best play it safe. Don’t admit to anything. _Calm down._ “Wh-whatever do you mean, Gabriel?” It felt an impossible task to keep his voice from shaking. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about . . . ”

Gabriel held up his hand with a grimace, “Don’t bother, please, just . . . _shut. Up_!” He rubbed a hand over his face in agitation, and then stalked towards Aziraphale, radiating waves of fury. “I thought we had an understanding, Aziraphale, but apparently I was mistaken.”

“I-I’m sure I don’t know what ...” Aziraphale took several steps backwards, retreating from the subdued yet palpable rage, “Gabriel, please, understand. _Please_ . . . ”

He stumbled over a stack of books, falling hard onto his backside with a sharp cry. Gabriel towered over him.

“Well, look at that,” the Archangel sneered, looking pointedly between Aziraphale’s legs, now unfortunately exposed after his robe had ridden up. “It seems you _can_ make an effort on your own.”

Aziraphale moved quickly to cover himself, but Gabriel was on him in an instant, catching his wrist in one broad hand and shoving the other between the angel’s thighs. “You little slut. Only wet and willing for the adversary, I see. One might question your loyalties.”

“Please,” Aziraphale said, “You don’t understand.”

Gabriel bent forward, putting his lips to Aziraphale’s ear and whispered, “Oh, I understand perfectly, sweetheart. What’s so special about the demon anyway? Is evil that alluring? Does Hell really taste so sweet?” A moist tongue swiped across the shell of Aziraphale’s ear.

The Archangel fondled him roughly, ignoring Aziraphale’s whimpers and cringes. “I misjudged you, Aziraphale. I assumed that you had merely been led astray - an innocent little angel corrupted by the temptation of a demon. But that was a lie, wasn’t it?”

Gabriel pushed two fingers into the residual slickness of Aziraphale’s effort, fucking him with sharp jabs while he spoke through gritted teeth, “I didn’t think you had it in you, but I _heard_ you with him. Carrying on like some kind of _beast_. Your appetite knows no bounds. You’ve forgotten yourself, little _angel_ ,” the title, an endearment from Crowley’s mouth was patronizing and cruel from the Archangel’s. “Perhaps you need a firmer hand. We’ll just need to work harder to correct your degenerate tastes.”

Gabriel stood and his body shuddered and _changed_ , blinking in and out of view as he morphed into a different, truer form. It wasn’t quite his full angelic glory. Gabriel must have realized that would have been too much (too much for the bookshop, the block, and even the city to endure for very long.) However, his tall, dark and dapper human form was now _enhanced_ with wings and limbs and talons and eyes. He was all gold and violet and shimmering and _enormous_ and _radiant_. It could have been beautiful, but was mostly terrifying.

Aziraphale shrank in fright, quelled beneath the Archangel’s radiating power; helpless and petrified in his stout human form. He would never _dream_ of opposing the Archangel Gabriel with any of his own angelic power. Instead, he cowered on his knees, curling up and tugging his robe tightly around himself, desperate to cover his body from the penetrating gaze of Gabriel’s many eyes.

“You know, Aziraphale, I don’t think many human religions allow fornication to go unpunished,” The fearsome, wondrous Archangel Gabriel circled his subordinate, all his violet eyes blazing. “You remember what fornication means, right? It’s _fucking_ outside the bonds of sanctity. I can’t think of anything more blasphemous and disgusting than a demon fucking an angel.”

Aziraphale cringed. He and Crowley hadn’t _technically_ done … _that._ Only tongues and mouths had been involved. Maybe that was all right. He could explain. He could still be forgiven. “Gabriel, please, I never … um … actually, you see -”

“Most punishments for such unholy behavior involve the lash, you know,” Gabriel interrupted loudly over Aziraphale’s timid failed explanation, “Up to one hundred lashes in some religions.” Aziraphale paled as Gabriel came up behind him. “Very serious stuff, isn’t it? But I’m willing to let you off with a light warning …”

Quick as lightning, four talons raked down Aziraphale’s back, leaving four bleeding gashes behind. Aziraphale screamed and arched his back as his flesh erupted into burning agony. Gabriel stood and watched impassively, letting Aziraphale bleed as the angel gasped, cried and convulsed on the floor. Then the Archangel crouched down beside him and gently placed his hand on top of the seeping gashes. Aziraphale flinched, but Gabriel shushed him like one would gentle a startled horse.

“Hush, Aziraphale,” he said softly. And then he healed the wounds. But only just. The bleeding stopped and the skin sealed over enough to leave only tender welts. “There now. Sins absolved with a little reminder left behind.”

Aziraphale let out a broken sob. He couldn’t stop shaking. The skin of his back was in less agony, but still raw, throbbing along the weals left behind from Gabriel’s punishing talons. The cuts ran along the muscles where he was able to make his wings emerge. Doing so now would surely reopen the wounds, though. It would be agonizing. Gabriel had essentially hobbled him as an angel. Aziraphale couldn’t be sure if that was a coincidence or if it was spite for popping his wings while with Crowley. Had the Archangel even seen that happen? He didn’t know.

“Now to cleanse the demon taint from you,” Gabriel said, ripping the talon-tattered robe from Aziraphale’s body and pushing him down onto the floor.

The pain from the wounds flared when they made contact with the rug, and Aziraphale winced. He looked up at Gabriel, face wet with tears. It was almost too painful to look directly at Gabriel as he was, even though he was only partially in his true form. To behold the Archangel Gabriel was to lay oneself bare. Naked and injured, Aziraphale only felt the exposure and vulnerability amplified.

“P-please,” Aziraphale whispered, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. He raised a trembling hand up in supplication, but Gabriel seized his wrist with sharp talons and squeezed it cruelly.

“I suggest you don’t fight me, sunshine,” Gabriel’s tone was icy.

As if he could. Aziraphale was defenseless against so many claws, hands, and talons, and Gabriel easily pinned him against the ground and forced his thighs open. The multitude of violet eyes looked down with disapproval at the angel’s cunt. And then Gabriel smirked.

“I’d love to know how the demon enjoyed his sloppy seconds,” Gabriel said. Aziraphale furrowed his brow, and Gabriel leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Here’s a little secret, princess. I knew you hadn’t fucked the demon before. Before I was _here_ ,” fingers trailed along Aziraphale’s slit.

Aziraphale’s mind spun in muddled pain and confusion. Hadn’t that been the entire point of Gabriel’s prior … _visit_? That Aziraphale was suspected of consorting, well, _Biblically_ with the adversary? He tensed at Gabriel’s rough, careless treatment of his delicate effort. He just couldn’t _think_ like this. If he were only braver, he could say something to make Gabriel understand, he was sure of it. _Crowley_ would know what to say. He always had a cleverly persuasive argument regardless of the opposition. But Aziraphale was weak, soft, and could only tremble in silent fear and take what the Archangel deigned to give. He was the picture of Heavenly compliance in all things.

Gabriel continued, “That’s right, Aziraphale. I knew you were a virgin, you idiot,” the insult stung. “But I also knew it was a close thing. That demon meant to have you. He wanted you, _lusted_ for you - for an angel! It was unseemly and dangerous, and I worried that if I gave it more time you’d be lost,” Gabriel’s voice grew louder and more terrifying, creating an unearthly echo in the shop, “I didn’t think you’d _actually_ have it in you to fuck the adversary after my little lesson. I’d be impressed with the audacity if I weren’t so pissed off.” He was practically snarling now.

“Gabriel, I didn’t - I mean … ” Aziraphale floundered, unsure how to explain himself. His mind was reeling, hesitant to admit to the intimacy he’d shared with Crowley while making it clear that they hadn’t _actually_ made love. It was hard to think with all the jabbing and rubbing between his legs and the soreness of his wounded back. “I can explain everything, really. I don’t think you understand - ”

“Just shut up, you lying whore,” Gabriel hissed. “You stink of demon, especially right here,” he gave Aziraphale’s cunt a sharp little smack and the angel yelped at the sudden sting. The harsh treatment of such an intimate and sensitive area was shockingly cruel. “And we can’t have any more of that, right? Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll fuck the filth that demon left behind right out of you.”

And then Gabriel breached him, forcing his impossibly large cock inside. Aziraphale hadn’t even seen the Archangel get his effort out, but now that it was inside him, he could feel it was far, far bigger than it had been the last time. After Gabriel was fully seated, his erection seemed to inflate, and Aziraphale feared he was going to be split in two. He let out a shrill sound, mouth gaping, eyes watering. And then Gabriel began to fuck him. Aziraphale couldn’t breathe.

“You belong to Heaven, Aziraphale. I’ll _make_ you remember it.”

It was a brutal fuck. Gabriel clearly didn’t care to make Aziraphale orgasm this time. Thank Heaven for small mercies. But his hands roamed, pinching and scratching as he snapped his hips at a punishing speed. Aziraphale’s body ached, stretched and pounded, back stinging from the four cuts Gabriel had given him. His mind began to drift, and he wondered idly if he would discorporate. At least it would bring some temporary relief.

Gabriel was supposed to be a messenger of love. _Is this love?_ he wondered. Maybe it was. Maybe Aziraphale had been wrong about everything. But this was so different than being with Crowley, and he _hated_ it. Perhaps this _was_ real love, but he couldn’t feel it correctly since he was such a poor excuse for an angel. Maybe this was exactly what he needed and deserved.

Aziraphale barely noticed Gabriel finishing with a reverberating roar and a clap of thunder. He curled onto his side after the Archangel withdrew, eyes squeezed shut and body shuddering. Bloody, bruised, sore, and used. Gabriel gently ran a hand down his side, and Aziraphale thought he might be sick.

“It’s all right, Aziraphale,” Gabriel said, back in his regular human-shaped form again. Not a wrinkle on his elegant suit. Aziraphale cringed away from him anyway. He couldn’t help it. Gabriel sighed loudly in aggravation. “Aziraphale, look at me.”

With difficulty, Aziraphale forced his head to turn, opening his tearful eyes and focusing on the buttons of Gabriel’s shirt.

The Archangel opened his arms, offering an embrace. Aziraphale only blinked at him, completely dumbfounded by the gesture. “Come here,” Gabriel said, his voice wavering dangerously between suggestion and command.

Aziraphale swallowed, and then, with perhaps more bravery than he’d ever shown the Archangel, he gave his head a sharp shake and turned away, wrapping his arms around his knees.

The wave of rage that washed over Aziraphale was staggering. The angel’s heart pounded and he braced himself for Gabriel’s divine retribution, for the Archangel to do something truly terrible to him.

“I see,” Gabriel said through gritted teeth. “So that’s how it is. You’re determined to be nothing more than a demon’s slut. I didn’t want to have to do this,” he said, voice sounding deceptively calm, “but you’re really forcing my hand. Heaven wants you back, and we _must_ ensure your loyalty.”

Gabriel’s holy influence struck like lightning, sending Aziraphale, weakened in his current state, reeling. He gasped, body taut and convulsing, and he could feel his mind clouding over. His last coherent thought was that this _must_ be a far stronger miracle than Gabriel typically used on humans. He wondered if She would notice.

“WE LOVE YOU.” The voices echoed in Aziraphale’s head, vibrating his skull, pushing out any and all other thoughts. “BE NOT AFRAID. THIS IS RIGHTEOUS.” Aziraphale was nodding. _Of course, of course. It all made sense now._ The pain was blessedly leaving his body. He sighed in contentment. In peace. “THIS IS RIGHTEOUS.” The voices repeated. “THIS IS RIGHT.” _Yes, right. Of course. Yes. Yes._

The heavy fog cleared, leaving behind only a fuzzy, drunken sensation in Aziraphale’s mind. He looked at Gabriel, eyes hazy, and blinked several times before finally finding his voice.

“Oh, Gabriel! Thank you for tending to me today,” He gave the Archangel a dopey smile. He patted his hands in confusion over his naked body, frowning. “Goodness, my clothes ... how silly of me!” he snapped his fingers and was dressed again. He gave Gabriel a broad smile. “That’s better!”

Gabriel gave him a warm smile in return. “It’s not a problem! Today was my pleasure, Zira.”

The wrongness of the nickname made Aziraphale furrow his brow for just a moment before a painful _zing!_ seemed to strike him sharply at the back of the skull. Almost immediately, a soft, sweet pleasure spread throughout his head and everything was _fine_ again. _Of course, it was fine. Tickety boo._

Gabriel opened his arms and Aziraphale eagerly stepped into the embrace, resting his head against Gabriel’s strong chest and sighing.

“I love you, Zira,” Gabriel said softly against the soft wisps of Aziraphale’s hair.

“Oh, I love you, too, Gabriel!” The Archangel squeezed him tightly in his arms and warmth spread through Aziraphale’s body.

“I have some work to attend,” Gabriel finally said. He bent and kissed Aziraphale on the mouth, and the angel accepted it, gladly.

Gabriel looked very pleased, and Aziraphale’s heart soared as Heavenly dopamine flowed over him. A small part of Aziraphale was befuddled. A tiny, niggling feeling remained, as though there was something he’d forgotten, but the thought kept slipping away beneath more pressing, pleasurable matters. Like how kind and handsome Gabriel was. He shook his head to clear it and beamed up at the Archangel.

Gabriel grinned. “I’ll be seeing you soon, then, Zira darling.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said, feeling strangely eager for it already. “Of course!”

* * *

It was difficult to give Aziraphale the space he needed, but Crowley forced himself to wait at least half a day before he called. The offer to treat Aziraphale to dinner died on his lips when the angel most definitely _blew him off._

“Another time perhaps, Crowley, I’m very busy at the moment,” Azirpahale clipped, tone far too _professional_ considering the demon’s tongue had been up the angel’s snatch just the night before.

Crowley’s pulse raced with worry. “Is everything all right, Angel?”

“Hmm? Of course everything’s all right. I must be going now, though, toodle-oo!” _Click._

Crowley blinked at the phone. Aziraphale hadn’t sounded _upset_ or like anything was _wrong_. He’d just sounded like … _like how he talked to you in the years before the Antichrist and failed Armageddon._ It was strange, confusing, but Crowley shook it off. Aziraphale often got distracted and hyper-focused on tasks, so it was probably nothing. Surely, Aziraphale would tell him if something had happened

Crowley decided he would just wait until Aziraphale called him instead. He distracted himself with fantasies of the angel’s delicious cunt. He was blessed (or cursed?) with a good memory and a wild imagination. If he focused, he could almost taste the angel’s damp arousal on his tongue, like a heavenly succulent ambrosia. He could almost hear the exquisite sounds Aziraphale had made when came, and _Dear Satan_ the angel’s wings had even popped. Crowley imagined what that sweet angel pussy would feel like around his cock - warm and wet and squeezing him in orgasm.

Crowley pumped his cock to those thoughts so often that he began to worry about chafing. Not nearly so much, however, as he worried about not hearing from the angel. Maybe something really _was_ wrong after all.

As he sped through the crowded streets towards the bookshop, he regretted waiting at all to check up. It hadn’t even been a week, but the silence felt unusual, ominous even, given the circumstances.

 _Or maybe the angel’s finally realized what you are and is finished with you._ The insidious voice Crowley worked so hard to quash still weaseled into his brain now and then, giving him a list of all the reasons Aziraphale would be wise to forget about him. It would remind him of all the cruel things Aziraphale had ever said, too. A looping, skipping record of doubt. _Fraternizing. We’re hereditary enemies. We’re on opposite sides. I don’t even like you!_ Crowley shook his head. Surely he was overreacting. They were on their own side now - especially in light of Gabriel’s outrageous behavior. Aziraphale probably got too involved in a bit of book indexing. That’s all. He couldn’t even let himself consider the _other_ alternative. That Gabriel had gotten to Aziraphale again and done something even worse than a bit of Heavenly assault. He pressed down on the gas pedal.

He pulled up in front of the shop, tires screaming on the pavement as he braked and practically leapt from the car. He knocked tentatively on the locked door, tapped his foot for the three seconds he waited for an answer, and then shrugged and let himself in.

“Aziraphale?” he called softly. _No answer._

His heart pounded. Dread crept up his spine at the familiarity of the situation. Aziraphale wasn’t in the shop, but he wasn’t in the back room either. Maybe he was just sleeping? Crowley made his way up the stairs to the rarely used bedroom. This time, he didn’t knock, but pushed the door open. And froze.

Gabriel was naked on top of Aziraphale, who was also naked. And they were _fucking_.

 _No, no, no! This can’t be happening again!_ Panic and guilt shot through Crowley as he stared in shock. This looked _different_ than the last time.

Gabriel was thrusting and grunting in much the same way, but Aziraphale’s head was thrown back, face a picture of ecstasy as he _moaned._ To Crowley, it was a horror show, and he was useless all over again. Why didn’t he _move_ , damn it?

Gabriel let out a guttural sound of completion, rolled over, and then smirked at Crowley.

“Well, well, what have we here, nosy little serpent?”

“Oh, Crowley!” Aziraphale said in alarm, blushing before pulling the sheets up to his chest. “I didn’t hear you come in. Goodness, why didn’t you _knock_?” He frowned at Crowley, looking very put out.

Crowley took off his sunglasses, rubbed his eyes, and then blinked in confusion. He’d been ready to attack, to shout, to _fight_ , but Aziraphale was looking at him like a puppy who’d piddled on the carpet. “Wh-what … ” he cleared his throat. _What on earth was happening?_ “You ... you can’t … you …”

The words caught in his throat. The two angels were looking at him as though _he_ were the interloper, the third wheel, the one who didn’t belong. He could only stare, eyes darting back and forth between the two of them, mouth gaping.

“You want a picture?” Gabriel snarked at him. “Or perhaps you’d like to watch …” he wrapped an arm around Aziraphale, bent down and kissed his neck before running his tongue up to tease his ear. Crowley had to swallow the pained, jealous fury in his gut while Gabriel continued, “I’d certainly be up for round two. We don’t even mind if you want to touch yourself while you watch, do we, Zira?”

Aziraphale gave a breathy little moan under the ministrations of Gabriel’s tongue and Crowley thought he might explode. _This was all wrong._

“Oh don’t be silly, Gabriel dear,” Aziraphale said, pulling away _with reluctance_ and giving the Archangel a playful little swat. Crowley half expected smoke to come from his own nostrils. Aziraphale turned to look at him, a mix of sympathy and embarrassment on his face. “Please, Crowley, go home. I clearly don’t have time to, er, talk shop right now.”

“But, but …” Crowley sputtered. “Aziraphale, what are you _doing_?”

The angel flushed and shrugged, averting his gaze in embarrassment.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Gabriel answered for him. “I would have thought a demon would know about these things.” He chuckled.

Crowley ground his teeth, still looking at Aziraphale. “But he,” he jabbed his index finger towards Gabriel, “ _r_ _aped_ you!”

Crowley expected Gabriel to argue. To deflect. To shout. To maybe even look contrite. What he didn’t expect was for Gabriel’s smile to broaden.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said in the chiding tone he used when he felt he was explaining something that he thought was very simple, “Please don’t exaggerate. And please don’t give so much weight to the silly little things we say when intoxicated. I know this may surprise you, but angels do sometimes partake in love making.”

“Love making? Love?! Have you lossst your mind?” Crowley could hear the shrillness in his voice, could hear how crazy he probably sounded as his voice grew in pitch and volume. And he was starting to get uncontrollably _hissy._ “You don’t _love_ Gabriel. He attacked you, I sssssaw it! I lissstened! We talked about thissss, don’t you remember? You … you … you love _me!_ ”

He was practically panting, shaking with indignant anger at what felt very much like gaslighting. Which he may have invented, thank you very much (at least he got credit for it officially on the books.) The two angels just kept looking at him awkwardly, as though he were a toddler having a very embarrassing tantrum, foot stomping and all.

“Oh, Crowley,” the pity on Aziraphale’s face was the worst thing Crowley had ever endured. “I’m so sorry if you’ve … misunderstood things. But please, don’t embarrass yourself any further. You didn’t really think we were doing anything more than …” he gave Gabriel a furtive, guilty look, but the Archangel nodded in understanding which spurred Aziraphale on, “... than dallying. I was curious, I’ll admit, and I’ve enjoyed your company in the past. I know how depraved demons can be, though, and I knew you were, well … _interested._ I wondered if a bit of angelic love would change anything in your nature. Of course, I quickly realized that you’re a lost cause and I do have better things to do.” He smiled at Gabriel.

It was as if Crowley’s heart had been doused with holy water. _Ouch._ Had he really been _that_ mistaken? He remembered Aziraphale saying something the other night about demons being, well, _slutty_. Maybe not in so many words, but the sentiment had been the same.

The voice in his mind returned, no longer whispering. _I am a great deal holier than thou! Oh, he’s not my friend! Ssseeee, he hatessss you, ssstupid._ Crowley winced.

"But ..." Crowley floundered. "But we're on our own side now, remember?"

“ _I_ never said that." He hadn't. Aziraphale sighed, voice placating but firm, "You could never compete with an Archangel, Crowley,” He looked at Gabriel like the sun shone out his fucking arse. “You and I may have had a friendly little diversion, but the love between angels is holy and pure. Untouchable and ineffable.”

Darkness clouded Crowley’s face. He sniffed and nodded angrily. He put his sunglasses back on. _Right, right, of course. Ineffable._ It was Aziraphale’s favorite word when he wanted to shut down any argument, and it always set Crowley’s teeth on edge. _Ineffable._ Exactly like the fall had been. Inexplicable and unfair. Cruel. Heaven sure hadn’t changed its tune.

Crowley chewed on the inside of his cheek and then swallowed, “If you’re sure, then, Aziraphale. If this is really … what you want …” he waited, one small tiny spark of hope left that his angel would _snap out of it_.

“Of course it is, Crowley. I’d never want a demon.”

Inside, he shattered into pieces and the voice _laughed._

“You heard him,” Gabriel finally spoke, interjecting with a sneer. “Get out of here, demon, before I smite you where you stand.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Crowley croaked, shrugging and barely holding himself together. He bit his wobbling bottom lip so hard he tasted blood, and channeled all the hurt into anger. For good measure, he got in the last word, masking the tremor in his voice with scorn, “My congratulations on the giant _prick_ , Aziraphale. Hope you really enjoy it.”

He turned and stormed out, overhearing Gabriel’s voice from behind, “Forget about it, Zira, sweetheart. Now, where were we?”

Crowley tore through the shop, purposefully knocking over and kicking stacks of books on his way. He slammed the front door behind him and then took off at full speed in the Bentley. He gasped for breath, chest tight, and nearly choked as unbidden sobs were wrenched from his throat. His vision blurred as he realized there were tears streaming down his cheeks.

He sped down the street with no clear notion of where he was headed, but he knew that somewhere there was a bar stool with his name on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally supposed to be a one shot, but it just keeps growing!
> 
> [Tumblr (agreatbestfriend)](https://agreatbestfriend.tumblr.com)
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/HipHopAnonymou9)


	5. Chapter 5

Aziraphale was perfect. He was compliant, sweet, and more than willing to please. There was no way he could he be considered a threat to Heaven now.

This wasn’t nearly as satisfying as Gabriel had hoped.

The Archangels had attended endless meetings about “The Aziraphale Problem” after Armageddon was cancelled. _Postponed_ Michael would correct. Heaven was really scrambling with the fallout.

Destroying Aziraphale had been priority number one, but they couldn’t even get _that_ right. That Aziraphale had been immune to Hellfire was either the work of some Divine intervention or, Gabriel suspected, a demonic trick. Unfortunately, the Heavenly council could reach no consensus on the “why” so instead, they chose to focus on the “now what?” The Archangels had argued about it at length.

Sandalphon wanted them to just forget Aziraphale existed. But Heaven hated loose ends. They couldn’t very well leave things hanging and uncertain as they were. A loose end like Aziraphale could be very dangerous.

So Gabriel had volunteered to “handle it.” He was closest to Aziraphale, after all, as his direct superior. And Gabriel had some idea what the problem might be.

Crowley. The problem was the demon Crowley. Gabriel wasn’t _completely_ naive. You didn’t follow human fashion as closely as Gabriel did without obtaining _a little_ side information regarding _lust_.

Gabriel had then taken it upon himself to look even further into the matter before deciding to act. Once he realized what _pornography_ actually was (he blushed a little at the memory of _shouting_ about it in a public place!) the wheels started turning in his clever angel brain. Yes, he’d done quite a lot of _research_ on pornography lately. Due diligence was of utmost importance, after all, and Gabriel had spent many nights doing a great deal of due diligence on the matter, finding _the effort_ put into his research far more pleasurable than he expected.

He was beginning to understand some of the things Aziraphale found so appealing about humanity. He had even tried food. The double quarter pounder with cheese had been surprisingly delightful. The sex with Aziraphale, though, had been even more delightful.

However, it was possible that _perhaps_ he’d come on a little too strong. It wasn’t Gabriel’s fault he wasn’t experienced in … well, _temptation_. He’d done his best, but Aziraphale hadn’t seemed to enjoy it at all. That was _annoying._ _Infuriating._

Even more frustrating was that Gabriel now found it difficult to think of much else aside from Aziraphale. Gabriel _wanted_. It was a new, both pleasant and unpleasant feeling. Unpleasant, because Aziraphale kept _disobeying_. This wasn’t how things were supposed to work. Gabriel, the Archangel, was in charge, and Aziraphale, a principality, should listen and obey. So why didn’t Aziraphale just obey in _wanting_ Gabriel back? It was a conundrum.

Gabriel loved Aziraphale. He’d always loved him. Like an angel, of course. But now he loved him like a … well, like a _human_ , he supposed. That must be it, since all he seemed to want to do was put his dick inside the angel. The line between love and lust seemed murky.

Gabriel was handsome, though. He knew that. He thought it would help in winning Aziraphale over. It should have been easier to woo gluttonous, sweet, insatiable Aziraphale. Who was apparently in love with a fucking _demon_ instead of an Archangel.

It made Gabriel furious. He’d never felt such wrath. He’d come close at the airbase when Aziraphale had been prattling on about the _Ineffable_ plan which had then completely _fucked_ the _Great_ plan.

But overhearing Aziraphale _fucking_ that vile, disgusting, depraved _demon_ , moaning like those pornstars Gabriel had seen on the Internet, had really taken the cake. It had taken every ounce of willpower for Gabriel not to burst in on them, smite the demon, and drag Aziraphale back to Heaven to … to … well, that was the problem, wasn’t it? He was supposed to be “taking care of it,” and so he had to keep up appearances for Heaven’s sake. He couldn’t very well haul Aziraphale back up to Heaven, kicking and screaming, with no idea how to _deal_ with him or whatever powers Heaven thought he may have. So Gabriel had bided his time.

He’d meant to play it cool, but when he confronted Aziraphale, the fury had overtaken him. It had made him manic. _Aziraphale_ had made him do that. It wasn’t Gabriel’s fault that Aziraphale had fallen so far. Well, not quite _that_ far. He wasn’t _fallen_. Not yet, at least. Aziraphale had really forced Gabriel’s hand, though.

Aziraphale’s behavior had enraged Gabriel, and infuriating an Archangel was risky business. Gabriel had just barely kept a handle on his powers, keeping himself at least somewhat in check while imparting … judgment on the errant principality. Yes, that’s right. He was the Archangel fucking Gabriel. He was merely doing his job. Guiding the flock. His personal feelings had nothing to do with it.

But now he wasn’t sure what to do, and _that_ was a very new experience for him. He’d always been confident in his leadership before. He couldn’t destroy Aziraphale. The Hellfire hadn’t worked, and even though Gabriel suspected that had been a fluke, Heaven didn’t want to risk trying again. Gabriel also found that he didn’t really _want_ to destroy Aziraphale anyway.

So Gabriel had _fixed_ him. He wasn’t sure if he was technically supposed to wield his power over angels, but it had been a desperate last resort. He couldn’t have Aziraphale running back into that demon’s detestable arms.

Now Aziraphale would do anything he was told. Absolutely anything Gabriel suggested. And all with a ridiculous look of adoration plastered on his face. Gabriel tested this out - within reason, of course. He felt he deserved a little reward after all the thankless effort he was putting into Aziraphale’s rehabilitation.

In doing so, Gabriel realized that he found Aziraphale quite cute. There was something appealing about his soft, plump form. Like a Cherub. Well, like the humans portrayed Cherubs, at least. Surprisingly, Gabriel found he appreciated a little more “cushion for the pushin’” as the humans liked to say.

Aziraphale was also magnificent with his mouth. Of course he was, the gluttonous thing. Gabriel had Aziraphale suck him off _many_ times, watching in amazement as the angel swallowed him, happily choking on the Archangel’s impressive length. Aziraphale would lap hungrily at Gabriel’s balls. He even wriggled his tongue in the Archangel’s anus one time, which was almost too much for Gabriel to enjoy. He’d only wanted to see if Aziraphale would do it.

He’d fucked Aziraphale in every position he’d seen in human videos, and then some that would be impossible for mortals. He made Aziraphale manifest a cock, and then stroked him to orgasm over and over until the angel was shaking, crying, yet still willing to take more. Gabriel pulled his hair, pinched his nipples, spanked him until he screamed. There were never any complaints.

If Gabriel asked, “Can you take more, Zira?” the answer would inevitably be “Yes, of course, Gabriel, anything you want!” Always willing and eager. A perfect whore. A perfect servant for Heaven.

Only it wasn’t _real_. It certainly didn’t make Gabriel feel any less _snubbed._ Gabriel didn’t find this new, puppet version of Aziraphale at all satisfying. But what could he do? Aziraphale had chosen a demon over an Archangel, and that just couldn’t stand.

 _Lust, wrath, envy …_ Gabriel was really having a bad time of it.

But at least he was able to report back to Heaven that the “Aziraphale Problem” was “taken care of.” Because it was. Mostly. For now. He really needed to figure out an alternative.

When Gabriel returned to the bookshop to “check in” with Aziraphale after his meeting with Heaven, Aziraphale was waiting eagerly for him. It was sweet, sort of, but something about his plump, earnest face made Gabriel want to smack the smile right off him. He did. But there had been nothing satisfying about Aziraphale just _taking_ it, apologizing for _absolutely nothing_ , wiping the trickle of blood from his chin, and then gazing adoringly at Gabriel again. His eyes weren’t right. It was the Holy Influence, Gabriel knew, and it only served to remind Gabriel that Aziraphale had forced him into using it.

After that, Gabriel began to “check in” often on Aziraphale. It was his duty, his _right_ , after all. He was just doing his job as an Archangel.

Gabriel had Aziraphale naked on his knees, and was enjoying a lazy afternoon blowjob. He had half a mind to bend the angel over the back of the sofa to finish, but Aziraphale was making such delightfully sloppy work of his cock, slurping and licking and absolutely devouring the erection with greedy fervor. Gabriel’s eyes were closed, his hand resting on Aziraphale’s fluffy white head, just enjoying the sensations and taking a break from all the _thinking_ he’d been doing lately.

“Ohhhh yes, that’s _it_. Do that thing with your tongue again, Zira! Yes, yes!”

“You know, I very nearly called him ‘Zira’ when he was sucking _my_ cock, as well.”

Gabriel’s eyes snapped open. _Crowley._ Gabriel had been too distracted by Aziraphale’s damn mouth, and he hadn’t felt the demon filth slither into the bookshop. He couldn’t believe that fucking demon actually had the _gall_ to show up again.

The Archangel sneered. “What do you think you’re doing here, demon? No, don’t stop,” he said to Aziraphale as the angel popped off his cock to turn towards Crowley.

Aziraphale shrugged and obediently took Gabriel in his mouth again, bobbing his head and ‘doing that thing with his tongue’ per request. Gabriel grinned at the way Crowley’s face contorted briefly in anger, and he thrust a few times down Aziraphale’s throat for good measure.

“Luckily,” Crowley said, clearing his throat, “I caught myself just in time, though. Big mistake that would have been - calling him ‘Zira’ when he had my cock in his mouth.”

The Archangel grimaced, gritting his teeth.

Crowley continued, “He might even have bit it off. Did you know that he _hates_ that nickname? No? Called him that once in the beginning of the fourteenth century and ooooh, boy, was he pissed off. I mean, ‘Aziraphale’ is just such a _mouthful_ don’t you think?” he winked at his attempted double entendre. “Anyway, he chewed me out and refused to talk to me for _ages_. That certainly didn’t help an already abysmal century.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at the demon, who clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace. Gabriel’s cock was wilting, despite Aziraphale’s efforts, and he shoved the angel off him, growling, “Enough!” and tucking himself away.

Aziraphale, looking not at all put out by it, wiped his mouth and sat dumbly on the floor awaiting further instruction. His own stubby cock was hard, red, and leaking against the pudge of his lower stomach.

Crowley’s jaw tweaked, but he otherwise remained passive, casual. “But then,” he chuckled humorlessly, giving his head a little shake, “But _then_ you called him ‘Zira.’ _Twice._ And you know what? He didn’t even bat an eye.”

Gabriel crossed his arms and glared at Crowley, gaze haughty and challenging.

Crowley went on, undeterred by the Archangel’s menace, “Of course, I didn’t really think much of it at first. I was in shock, you see. Barely even noticed that you’d said it. I was thrown off by, well, everything, you know, and understandably upset. But then later I got to thinking ...”

The thinking had come to Crowley after the drinking. And the crying. And the angry shouting and knocking over of chairs that got him kicked out at least three bars (his memory was foggy).

Lying drunk and dirty in a gutter, his mind had replayed his conversation with Aziraphale and Gabriel over and over. Mostly to torture himself. But then … _Zira._ It hit him and he’d sobered up immediately. That was _wrong._ The more he thought about it, the more _off_ he realized Aziraphale had seemed. Something wasn’t right about his eyes, his mannerisms.

Crowley had spent their every moment together during the past six thousand years studying the angel. He should have known straight away. But Crowley had been so damn _hurt._ Now he needed to see the angel again as soon as possible. Just to _check_ if nothing else. It was more than worth the risk of being smote.

When Crowley had arrived in the bookshop to find Aziraphale undressed, sucking that _bastard_ off, the _scars_ on the angel’s back had stopped him dead in his tracks. He hadn’t expected something like _that._ Those angry looking cuts most certainly had not been there before. Something was _definitely_ wrong. He knew instantly that his hunch had been right.

“So I got to thinking that something was really wrong," Crowley said. He stood across from Gabriel and crossed his own arms, facing off against the Archangel with a matching glare. “What the fuck did you do to him, you bastard?”

Aziraphale was looking back and forth between the angel and demon, blinking owlishly. He was far more vacant than he’d been before. He didn’t seem to mind at all that he was still naked, and he didn’t even try to speak. Whatever Gabriel had done to him was getting worse. Crowley needed to act fast.

Gabriel snorted and smirked, “I’m the Archangel Gabriel. I can do whatever I want with him.”

Crowley’s anger flared, hot and blazing like Hellfire, his pulse pounding in his ears. “No,” he said, voice low, rumbling. “I won’t _let_ you.”

Gabriel barked out a laugh. “I’d like to see you try and stop me, demon!”

There was a trembling, like a small earthquake. It made all Aziraphale’s little bits and bobs rattle on their perches, and several books slid from shelves or stacks to the ground. Crowley’s form wavered as it changed - fangs, scales, obsidian wings and a few undulating maggots, just for show. He radiated waves of corruption, malevolence, and danger.

Aziraphale whimpered, cringing in fear on the floor. _Sorry, Angel._

Crowley reached into his inner breast pocket and pulled out a small length of chain, more substantial than one would wear as a necklace, but still delicate. He wrapped it around his right hand, between the fingers, over the knuckles, and around his wrist. He clutched it in his fist and crouched down, bobbing like a serpent as he sized up Gabriel, still blinking in and out of his demonic form. He didn’t want to completely settle into it lest he lose his focus.

“Picked this up from back home on the way,” he said when Gabriel eyed the chain on his hand. “Forged in Hellfire. Might not be enough to kill you, but I can hope!”

Then he lunged, wings stretched out wide behind him. As he bore down on Gabriel, he noticed a tiny spark of fear in the Archangel’s eyes. Emboldened, Crowley bared his fangs and drew back his chain-enhanced fist. Gabriel moved quickly, reaching down and wrenching Aziraphale up by the elbow, holding the naked angel to his chest as a shield. Crowley didn’t falter, swinging his fist downwards. A dark look of realization and understanding dawned on Gabriel’s face.

He caught Crowley’s fist in his large hand before the demon could make contact with his face. The chain did nothing and Gabriel smiled broadly. _Fuck._

“Should have known from the start you were a little liar,” Gabriel said. “Nice try, though.”

He glowed with power, and twisted Crowley’s hand, easily snapping the bones in his wrist. The pain lanced up Crowley’s arm and he screamed, writhing in Gabriel’s firm, cruel grip as he shrank back to his thin human form. His black wings remained, drooping behind him and twitching. Tears stung his eyes at the agony of his failure more than that of his broken bones.

Gabriel ran the back of his free hand down the side of Aziraphale’s face gently. Crowley closed his eyes, face contorted. Gabriel gave him a little shake and he opened them again and watched the Archangel take Aziraphale’s chin between two fingers and turn his head to press a kiss to his lips.

“Thank you, darling. Quick thinking for me to use _Zira_ here as a shield, don’t you think, demon?” Gabriel said, squeezing Crowley’s broken bones in his hand. “You didn’t even hesitate. And we both know he’s not _really_ immune to Hellfire, isn’t that right? It was all a bluff. You’d never risk hurting him. _Moron._ ”

Gabriel flung Crowley by his broken wrist onto the floor where he crumpled, dark wings folding instinctively around himself in protection. He cradled his arm with a wince at the unnatural bend at his throbbing wrist.

He glared at Gabriel. “That’s because I _love_ him, unlike you, you worthless piece of shit!” _Shit, shit, shit, shit!_ He’d really shown his hand, and he hadn’t even gotten a hit in. What a miserable failure. _Idiot._

Gabriel shook his head, a dark look crossing his eyes. “What would _you_ know about love?”

 _Ouch._ Crowley winced at the hurt he couldn’t stop from feeling at those words. He didn’t really believe them. Not really. Not much. He at least _cared_ for Aziraphale. He was sure of it.

And _of course_ he hadn’t been able to get something _actually_ forged in Hellfire. He was still in Hell’s bad books, after all. He’d had just wanted to punch the Archangel in his stupid chiseled face at least once. So he'd snagged the chain from a bicycle rack and improvised. Bluffed.

He’d hoped to at least frighten and distract Gabriel enough to pull Aziraphale into his embrace and whisk them away somewhere. There was no shame in running. He was sure he could figure something out if he could just get Aziraphale away from Gabriel. To somewhere they could regroup. He had even been considering taking Aziraphale to Hell to beg advice from Beelzebub or Dagon. Maybe they knew something that could help, and he could probably tempt them to do so with a few choice promises concerning his loyalty to Hell.

But, well, _the best laid plans …_

Gabriel pushed Aziraphale aside and stalked up to Crowley, towering over him. He kicked him in the ribs. Hard. Crowley groaned, writhing on the floor. Gabriel grabbed a fistful of Crowley’s black feathers and yanked. Crowley arched his back and shrieked as they were ripped out from the root, splattering blood across the rug.

“Pathetic,” Gabriel sneered at him. “Just look at you. You _really_ thought you could waltz in here and _steal_ him from me?” He aimed a harsh kick to Crowley’s gut, and the demon curled forward, arms wrapped around his torso, wheezing. “Fallen trash.”

Gabriel seized him by his hair, pulling him to his knees and wrenching his head back. He backhanded him across the face, splitting his lip. Crowley coughed and spat blood, and then used all his effort to look the Archangel in the eye with a smirk.

“Does _She_ know what you’ve done? Does She know you’re a lustful, wrathful, hypocrite?”

Gabriel hit him again, then slammed him back against the floor, stepping heavily on one outstretched wing. The feathers splayed in disarray beneath his polished shoe.

“Someone should teach you to keep your stupid mouth shut, demon scum,” Gabriel said, grinding his foot against the bone of Crowley’s wing. “You really shouldn’t have come back here. You must be stupid.”

Gabriel kicked him in the head and Crowley’s ears rang. Then the Archangel knelt beside him and wrapped his hands around his throat, squeezing.

 _Just let him kill me already._ Crowley could get a new body in Hell post-discorporation, surely. He’d promise Beelzebub, Hastur, and Satan anything, absolutely anything they wanted just to eventually get back to Aziraphale to save him from this monster.

Gabriel pushed his thumbs into Crowley’s windpipe. Crowley’s unbroken hand grappled uselessly at the Archangel’s strong forearm. Crowley’s legs kicked and convulsed as his vision began to tunnel. Then Gabriel slackened his hold, and Crowley gasped and gagged, body buzzing as the air returned to his lungs.

“You know,” Gabriel said, running a finger gently down Crowley’s heaving chest, “it would be pretty easy for me to summon some holy water right now. I don’t believe for one second that you’re really immune to it. I don’t care _what_ Michael says. But we could test it out and see for sure, what do you think?”

Crowley squeezed his eyes shut, unable to stop from trembling at the threat.

“Stop.”

The word was just barely above a whisper. _Aziraphale._

The Archangel turned his head slowly with disbelief, eyes blazing. Crowley looked, too, though the room was blurry through his battered eyes. Aziraphale stood hunched, arms crossed over his body in a poor attempt at hiding his nakedness. He was, thankfully, no longer hard.

“Please, Gabriel …” Aziraphale began.

And then he screamed, clutching his head and falling to his knees, shaking. He dry heaved for a moment and then looked back up at Gabriel.

“Please, just wait!” He gasped out in a panicked rush. “Just listen to me!”

“You’d better make it good, then,” Gabriel said, lips thin.

“I promise I won’t fight you anymore,” Aziraphale was wringing his hands, gaze down. “You won’t have to use your Influence. I-I’ll do whatever you want, _happily_. If …”

Crowley started to shake his head, but Aziraphale didn’t look at him.

“If you stop hurting him and let him go.”

Gabriel scoffed. “Why would I agree to that?”

“Because I know it bothers you,” Aziraphale said. “You don’t want to have to use your power to control me, and besides,” he looked up at Gabriel, eyes suddenly fierce, “I’m starting to learn to resist.”

Gabriel snarled and leapt up, stalking towards the angel. Crowley struggled to sit up, bruised and bleeding body aching at the effort.

Aziraphale cowered beneath Gabriel’s towering form, but only a little, staying determined. “I’ll belong to you of my own free will. I’ll love you. I’ll reconcile with Heaven. I’ll obey. Anything …”

 _No, no, no!_ Crowley was shaking his head more fervently now. He tried to crawl towards the two angels, whimpering when he foolishly put weight on his broken wrist. He crumpled to the ground. _I’m not worth it, Angel. Don’t do this._

“I’ll do and be anything and everything you want. Just swear you won’t hurt him. Let him go.”

Gabriel sighed, studying Aziraphale. He spared Crowley a quick glance, lip quirking at the pitiful state of the demon. He tilted his head and then shrugged.

“All right. It’s a deal, then.”

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up. It was the worst thing Crowley had ever seen.

Gabriel continued, “I’d suggest that you keep well away from him, though, Zira."

Aziraphale winced a little, but nodded without complaint.

Gabriel continued, "Or else there will be consequences. I catch you fraternizing and I’ll make you watch while I destroy him, and I’ll do it _slowly._ ”

To his credit, Aziraphale didn’t wince at that.

“I won’t ever speak to him again. I swear it,” Aziraphale said.

An animal response deep inside Crowley roared. _No!_

“No!” Crowley voiced it. He looked at Aziraphale, his eyes pleading and desperate, but the angel only looked away.

“Just go, Crowley,” Aziraphale said softly, not even looking at him. "Please."

“Don’t do this, Angel, please, _please_. It’s not worth it.”

“You heard him, demon,” Gabriel said. “You have thirty seconds to get out or the deal’s off.”

Aziraphale’s head snapped up, fear plain on his face. He gave Crowley an imploring look. “Go! Now!”

Crowley stumbled to his feet, and then stood, swaying, unable to leave the angel behind. Aziraphale made a frustrated face, and sighed. His face crumpled into a defeated grimace and his shoulders slumped.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

And then he shot a smite at Crowley.

It was very small and very weak as far as smitings went. The pain was minor, really. But the shock, the betrayal of Aziraphale actually _smiting_ him hurt Crowley terribly. It was only like a minor electric shock, but the strength of it against his injured body forced him to shrink, leaving a small black and red snake where he had stood. Another motion of Aziraphale's hand and Crowley’s slender form was flung towards the door. The message was clear. Crowley didn’t wait for Aziraphale to smite him again.

With no better choice at the moment, Crowley slithered away, slipping out the door and off to lick his wounds. And to drown his sorrows in many, many glasses of brown liquid.

However, a small, determined voice hissed from deep within him.

_Thisssss isn’t over._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr (agreatbestfriend)](https://agreatbestfriend.tumblr.com)
> 
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	6. Chapter 6

Aziraphale had never much cared for sleeping. Crowley seemed to enjoy it, investing in luxurious silk pyjamas and taking long afternoon (or century long) naps. Aziraphale had tried it a few times before, but it only made him feel groggy. In his opinion, there were far better ways to spend his time. Plenty of books to read, restaurants to try, and orchestra performances to enjoy. He typically only ever nodded off sitting upright in a chair, but that was only on exceptionally rare occasions and typically in the middle of a particularly dense (read: boring) book.

Aziraphale slept a lot now.

After a particularly long nap, he awoke dazed, mouth dry. He groaned and kicked off the tangled, damp sheets, then looked toward the digital clock with bleary eyes, trying to discern the date and time. He did the calculation in his head. He’d been asleep for nearly two weeks this time.

It was a bit surprising Gabriel hadn’t been by to wake him up. The Archangel usually went away for work for only a few days and then popped back in for _pleasure_.

Gabriel was always annoyed to find Aziraphale asleep. Sometimes he was downright angry about it. It made him rough. He’d smack Aziraphale around, turn him over and fuck him hard and fast, finish, and then storm out, leaving Aziraphale in a shuddering heap. That was easier. Then Aziraphale could clean himself up and go back to sleep.

It was worse when Gabriel _took his time._ When the Archangel was feeling affectionate, then Aziraphale had to _pretend._ Nothing was worse than the soft, loving kisses, the gentle caresses that made Aziraphale’s skin crawl, and the slow, passionate farce of love-making.

Aziraphale had tried to close his eyes and think about Crowley, but it was all wrong - the smell, the size, the aura. And so very often, Gabriel would _insist_ that Aziraphale keep his eyes open. “Look at me!” he would order, and Aziraphale would, because what else could he do? He’d made his choice, his promises, and he had to live with them. At least for now.

He had to keep Crowley safe. That was imperative. That was everything. Priority number one.

After chasing Crowley out of the bookshop, after _smiting_ him, Gabriel had cupped his hand on Aziraphale’s cheek, and the angel had struggled not to flinch away. Gabriel had looked so pleased, and had kissed him, patted his face just a bit too hard to be kind, and then left with a promise to “be back soon.”

Aziraphale had sobbed for hours, half wishing Crowley would come back and half terrified that he would and that Gabriel would _know_.

Gabriel _had_ returned, as promised, a few days later. Thankfully, Aziraphale had considerably calmed down and was able to do his best to please the Archangel. Gabriel had clearly been seeking confirmation of Aziraphale’s promise to obey and love him, pushing his body to the limit and insisting on professions of love. It had torn Aziraphale apart, but he’d somehow managed, and Gabriel had gone away seemingly satisfied. Aziraphale hadn’t been able to stop trembling for ages after he left.

Fortunately, the rapes got easier to take over time. Aziraphale became accustomed to Gabriel's preferences and habits, and so they fell into a predictable, if heartbreaking routine. 

Now, after his two week nap, Aziraphale was feeling more refreshed than had in some time. He stretched, sighed and thought about going back to sleep. Instead, he decided he would have something to drink. Maybe even a snack. He hadn’t been eating as much lately - all the sleeping was really cutting into his meals. It wasn’t like he _needed_ the sustenance, but he missed it. And maybe it would annoy Gabriel just as much to see him eating as it would to find him sleeping if he decided to show up.

He certainly couldn’t do anything _blatant_ to anger Gabriel. He’d agreed to obey, to love him (or at least pretend), and to satisfy him, but there were many, many subtle little acts of defiance he could do to get under the Archangel’s skin. It was always a relief to anger Gabriel in order to push him into a quick and brutal fuck, rather than a lengthy indulgence. It was Aziraphale’s own secret little rebellion. However, that was as far as he was willing to go with Crowley’s safety at stake.

The bookshop was quiet. It had been “closed for renovation” during Aziraphale’s two week sleep, and so it was blessedly free of customers. No sign of any Archangels, either. Aziraphale allowed himself to relax as he set the kettle on the burner and then opened a tin of biscuits.

He’d left a book on the counter, having been unable to concentrate on it after a particularly uncomfortable evening with Gabriel that involved Aziraphale on top and Gabriel’s mouth incessantly at his nipples. He’d barely been able to withhold the shudders of revulsion.

As the water heated, Aziraphale flipped to the page where he had left off. The bookmark caught his eye, and he did a double-take at the serpent pattern reminiscent of Crowley’s tattoo along the border. _Odd._ He didn’t recall having a bookmark like that.

He picked it up to have a closer look when suddenly, the snakes began to move on the paper. They spelled out a single word:

_Bandstand_

The bookmark slipped from Aziraphale’s fingers and he stood frozen, eyes wide and mouth gaping as he watched a date and time appear below. The shrieking whistle of the kettle made him jump. He snatched the bookmark, fumbling with it, terrified that Gabriel might show up and find it, read it, and know what it meant. He rushed to the tea kettle, wrenching it off the heat.

Quickly, he crumpled the paper in his hand, looking around desperately before finally settling on tossing it in the sink. He poured the boiling hot water over it and watched it shrink and begin to disintegrate. He poked and prodded at it with a fork, breaking it into mushy tiny pieces, barely recognizable as paper, and then washed it down the drain.

That had been close. What was Crowley _thinking_? There was no way they could meet now. Stubborn, foolish demon. So stupid. So reckless. So _brave._

Aziraphale felt the tears welling in his eyes. He desperately wanted to go meet Crowley, but it was too dangerous, so he forced himself to forget the date and time.

Gabriel _did_ show up a bit later that day.

Aziraphale spread his legs and made the appropriate sounds at the appropriate times and moved the way he knew Gabriel liked. The Archangel was unfortunately in a talkative mood.

“Oh, Zira, that’s so _good_. You’re perfect, you know.”

Aziraphale, flat on his back, made a small, affirmative sound, wincing when he realized from the aggravated huff that Gabriel expected a bit more appreciation for the praise. There was an ominous pause in the thrusting, and Aziraphale squirmed and looked up at the Archangel with lidded eyes and parted lips, moaning a bit to try to goad him into just finishing already.

Gabriel leaned forward, pressing his firm chest to Aziraphale’s soft one. His breath was hot on Aizraphale’s ear.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Mmhmm,” Aziraphale closed his eyes, praying that would be confirmation enough.

Gabriel began to roll his hips slowly. “You didn’t really believe _he_ loved you, did you? I know you aren’t _that_ stupid.”

Aziraphale took a sharp breath. Gabriel hadn’t spoken of Crowley since Aziraphale had smited him out of the bookshop. There was another lull in the fucking and Aziraphale realized that Gabriel expected a verbal response.

“N-no, not really,” he found it difficult not to hedge, even with all that was at stake.

Gabriel snorted and resumed the lazy rocking pace of his hips, his length prodding Aziraphale uncomfortably deep inside.

“We left you too long alone on earth, Zira. You must have been lonely, so your little slip up was partially our fault. I understand why you got confused, really, I do. But you have to know that you can’t experience love with a demon.”

“I-I know, Gabriel.” _Liar._

“That was just lust, you know? A temptation. It’s pretty embarrassing that an angel fell for it, though. You really are pathetic, aren’t you?” he chuckled.

“Yes,” Aziraphale mirrored a humorless chuckle. _Pathetic._

“The only pure, real love is that of the Angels,” Gabriel continued, adding as almost an afterthought, “and God, of course.”

“Yes, Gabriel.” _If this is real love, then I don’t want it._ The near blasphemy didn’t send quite the same shot of icy terror through him as it used to.

“You were just confused, tempted. You’re weak, I know. You’re very lucky Heaven was willing to forgive you.”

“I know that. Thank you.”

Aziraphale cared more if Crowley would ever forgive him. Maybe that was why he’d sent the note. But how could the demon forgive him after Aziraphale had been so cruel? After _smiting_ him? Maybe Crowley only wanted to meet to tell him off; to say he was finished with all this Heavenly nonsense since surely Aziraphale wasn’t worth all of this headache and baggage. It didn’t matter anyway, since it was far too dangerous for Aziraphale to go and see him.

He closed his eyes and tried to disconnect his mind from his body. He tried not to _think_ at all. He half wished he was still under Gabriel’s Holy Influence. Everything had seemed far more bearable under the pleasant haze.

* * *

Aziraphale was quite possibly the only person left in London who still got a paper newspaper. He sat down in his favorite chair, gingerly. Gabriel had been particularly rough with him the previous evening, taking out his anger at some Heavenly Council annoyance or another. The bruises were still dark on Aziraphale’s pale skin, and his anus was inflamed and probably a bit torn. Gabriel didn’t usually take him that way, but he’d been looking to _hurt._ Aziraphale didn’t dare heal himself. He’d asked Gabriel about it once before and been slapped for his inquiry. Gabriel preferred to swoop back in days later after he had been particularly brutal and heal the hurt himself, playing the role of tender lover and savior. It made Aziraphale sick to his stomach.

Ignoring the present discomfort, Aziraphale opened the paper and began to skim for something interesting to take his mind off it. An advertisement caught his eye:

 _Angel in Need Charity._  
_The Bandstand._  
_Saturday. Noon._  
_Invitation Only._

His heart began to pound. _Damn it all, Crowley._ That stubborn fool just wouldn’t give up. Resigning himself to a newspaperless day, Aziraphale tossed the pages into a fireplace he only just miracled into existence. With a snap, he lit the paper and fell into a fitful sleep on the warm hearth.

* * *

“You understand this is how it’s meant to be, don’t you? _She_ put you beneath me in the hierarchy and so that’s where you belong, Aziraphale. Not spreading your legs for the _enemy_. You realize how disgusting that is, don’t you?”

Gabriel pounded into Aziraphale from behind, pushing his face down into the mattress so hard he couldn’t breathe. The Archangel didn’t expect answers today. Aziraphale’s vision tunneled, and he silently raged about the unfairness of it all. Gabriel was wrong. Crowley didn’t even get to properly have him before the Archangel had sullied him. It was too late now. Aziraphale was already too broken in for anything sweet and meaningful with Crowley. Not that he’d ever get the chance anyway. He had to keep reminding himself that he couldn’t ever see Crowley again, regardless of how much it made his heart ache.

“You are an angel and you are _mine_!” Gabriel roared as he finished, smacking Aziraphale on the arse after he pulled out.

Slumped on the mattress, feeling Gabriel’s spendings trailing down the inside of his thigh, Aziraphale considered that statement. It was all so confusing. He had always thought that he was _Hers_ , but Gabriel probably knew better. There must be something wrong with Aziraphale to feel the way he did. To prefer a demon to an Archangel. Maybe Gabriel was right.

The thought of this being _right_ made him sob pitifully. He ought to love Gabriel, but he still _wanted_ Crowley anyway.

* * *

Aziraphale was dozing in his chair while a little portable radio played Mozart beside him. He was only just about to drift off when the movement suddenly cut out in the middle. He blinked his eyes open, wondering if the battery had died, and then the voice of the station’s D.J. broke in.

“We’re interrupting the song for an urgent message from someone only identified by the initials ‘AJC.’ This “AJC” person requests that an … angel,” the man chuckled, “meet him at the bandstand on Tuesday at eleven. Well, best of luck to you, Mr. AJC. We’re all looking for that special someone, aren’t we?”

Aziraphale practically knocked the radio off the table in his haste to shut it off. He looked around the room, terrified that Gabriel might have been standing there listening. 

He sat in silence, unable to sleep, trembling and jumping at every sound for hours.

* * *

Gabriel stormed in the next morning, clearly pissed off.

“All right, buttercup,” Gabriel said, “No more lies. It’s time to come clean.”

Aziraphale couldn’t breathe. _Oh god, no, he knows._ Crowley was an _idiot._ Aziraphale fidgeted while desperately trying to think up some lie or excuse. 

“Gabriel, I can explain, really, please just - ”

“Apparently Heaven ‘must determine the source and nature of Aziraphale and Crowley’s powers,’” Gabriel said it in a mocking tone. “So, our time is up. You need to tell me right now how you survived the hellfire and how that fallen bastard survived the holy water.”

Aziraphale blinked. He wasn’t expecting this. “Um ...”

“The truth. Now.”

He couldn’t tell Gabriel the truth. If Heaven and Hell found out it was just a clever ruse, disguising themselves as each other, then they’d know they could easily destroy Crowley with holy water. _Gabriel_ would know. Would the Archangel go after Crowley himself? Even after Aziraphale’s promises? Or would _Hell_ try to kill him again?

Aziraphale felt the terror creeping up his spine. He vividly recalled standing there, foggy from Gabriel’s holy influence, listening to Gabriel threaten Crowley with summoning holy water. It had been what finally snapped him out of the Influence-stupor enough to bargain for the demon’s life. He _couldn’t_ tell Gabriel the truth. He just couldn’t.

“Um, I’m not sure, Gabriel,” He hedged. “Really. I-I don’t think I could explain. I don’t understand it myself. Perhaps it was some sort of divine intervention or -” 

The back of Gabriel’s hand hit him in the face so hard it knocked him down. 

“You’re a terrible fucking liar, Aziraphale.” 

Aziraphale looked up from the ground, a hand on his aching cheek. 

“I really don’t know -”

Gabriel’s Holy Influence hit harder than the Archangel’s hand and he shrieked as a tidal wave of electric pain shot through his body. The familiar foggy sensation took over his mind, the reassuring voices at odds with the punishing shocks that were sending him into convulsions on the ground.

“Tell me,” Gabriel said again, his voice magnifying and multiplying into a horde. “You _must_ tell me. How did you survive the hellfire?”

Aziraphale struggled, fighting the overwhelming urge to obey those voices, pushing back against the fog clouding his brain. _No, no, no!_

Inside, a voice was screaming, begging him to shut up, but it grew muffled. As it quieted, the pain dissipated and only calm remained. He opened his mouth and his own, nearly unrecognizable voice rang out clearly and compliantly, “We switched places.” 

“What do you mean?” Gabriel asked, tilting his head. “Explain.” 

_No, stop, please!_ The plea was distant, ignorable. “We switched bodies. It’s shocking, really, that it worked, but there you are.” 

“You switched bodies. I see.” He was nodding.

Gabriel released the hold of Influence, and Aziraphale gasped for air, reeling once the fog cleared and only dull, icy pain remained. _Oh, dear God, no._

Gabriel gave him a smug smile and let out a triumphant laugh. “I was right! I _knew_ it. I just _knew_ it was a trick!” He chuckled darkly. “Excellent. Thank you!” 

“Gabriel, please,” Aziraphale’s voice shook, still trembling from being under the Archangel’s Influence again, even briefly. He reached his shaking hand up, and gripped the hem of Gabriel’s jacket. “Please, please don’t … don’t hurt him. You promised!”

Gabriel looked down, lip curling, “Why do you even care what happens to a demon?” 

And then he vanished. 

Aziraphale panicked. _Oh no, oh no, oh no._ What should he do? What _could_ he do? He had to do _something._ Gabriel knew their secret. Presumably, he had gone off to tell Heaven. It wouldn’t be long before Hell found out.

Or maybe Gabriel was going straight to find Crowley to destroy him with holy water. Aziraphale thought he might be sick.

Aziraphale just had to warn Crowley. His beloved was out there operating under the assumption that he was safe, that Heaven and Hell thought him invincible. He was confident enough to be sending clandestine messages to Aziraphale, for Heaven’s sake.

If nothing else, Crowley absolutely had to stop trying to contact Aziraphale. It wasn’t safe. He had to go into hiding. Perhaps he could go to Alpha Centauri like he always talked about. Or anywhere. It didn’t matter. It would be better if Aziraphale didn’t know. 

Aziraphale would think of something. He had to do something to fix all of this. He couldn’t live like this, terrorized and terrified. A desperate plan was forming in his mind, but first he had to tell Crowley that they’d been found out and that he was no longer safe.

* * *

Crowley downed the last of his drink and plunked the glass loudly on the table. He’d achieved that pleasant buzzing numbness he tried to maintain at all times lately. It was stupid, probably, but he just couldn’t bear the hostile, hissing voices in his head when sober. He was weak. Useless. A fool. With all his demonic power and imagination, he just couldn’t figure out a way to save Aziraphale. 

Especially not when the angel kept ignoring his messages. He didn’t understand why Aziraphale wouldn't run. It had to be a better option than suffering Gabriel. Crowley couldn't stand thinking too long about what Aziraphale was going through. And all for his sake. It was nowhere near worth it. They had to run. Surely, a wiley serpent could keep two steps ahead of a bureaucratic Archangel. At least for long enough to figure something out or until the Archangel grew bored of the chase.

Aziraphale was so stubborn. Such a self-sacrificing moron with no sense of his own worth. Angels could be so bloody thick.

Crowley raised his hand, signalling the barkeep for another drink. When it came, it was accompanied by a ridiculous looking miniature cake.

“I didn’t order this, love,” Crowley said to the waitress who was obviously an idiot if she couldn’t keep track of the orders of the paltry few patrons in the bar on a Tuesday afternoon.

“It’s on the house, dearie,” she said, wandering away a bit vapidly.

Crowley scowled at the cake. It was far too fancy for a dive bar, looking more like some frou frou fluffy thing they’d serve at an overpriced delicatessen Aziraphale would frequent.

His heart sped as he eyed the tiny pastry. It was decorated with frosted flowers and, now that he looked more closely, an elaborate little script that spelled out “Bandstand. Tomorrow. 1700.” 

It could be a trap. It could be a trick. Gabriel might have intercepted one of Crowley’s messages and would be there waiting with holy water. Crowley didn’t care. He knew he was going to show up regardless.

He picked up his drink and raised it to his lips, thought better of it, and sobered up.

* * *

Crowley didn't wait on the bandstand, just in case. Instead, he paced nervously on the outskirts of the field, hugging the shrubbery and glancing constantly down the pavement, hoping to see a certain angel making his way towards him. He jumped at every rustle of leaves, and glared at every squirrel that hopped by startling him. There were humans milling about after the workday, chatting, and he could hear children shouting some distance away.

He looked down at his watch for about the five hundredth time. Five o’clock. On the dot. Where _was_ that angel? 

“Crowley?” 

Crowley leapt in the air and let out an undignified squawk. He whirled around to see Aziraphale standing just behind him. “Son of a - Holy shit, Angel, you trying to discoporate me?”

As his pulse slowed back to a reasonable pace, he couldn’t help but grin at Aziraphale, more than a little thrilled to see him. Crowley desperately wanted to embrace him, his fingers itching to touch. He wanted to kiss every inch of his face. He wanted to bury his nose in the angel’s fluffy white hair and inhale the scent of him.

But Aziraphale looked tense. And exhausted. And far less plump than Crowley had ever seen him, his outdated clothing hanging on his thinner frame. There was a blue bruise underneath Aziraphale’s left eye and a cut below his lip.

Fury roiled in Crowley’s belly and he had to make fists to stop himself from reaching for Aziraphale.

“It’s good to see you, Crowley,” Aziraphale gave him a pained smile. His eyes were constantly darting from side to side, only adding to his harried demeanor. “But we don’t have much time. I can never be sure when Ga- when he may return.”

Crowley’s nodded. “I understand. We have to go now, then.”

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed. “Go?” 

“Yes, of course, go! We need to go as far as we can as fast as we can.” 

He finally reached out his hand to take Aziraphale’s, tugging him towards where he’d parked the Bentley. Aziraphale pulled his hand back. 

“We can’t, Crowley,”

“What do you mean we can’t? Of course we can! Come _on_ , Aziraphale!”

“No, Crowley. I’m sorry, but it’s too dangerous. I only came because I had to warn you.”

“Warn me that it’s dangerous? I think I already know that, and that’s why I have to get you away from here.”

“No, no, you don’t understand. They _know_!”

Crowley looked at him blankly. “Know what?”

“They know about the switch! That you aren’t really immune to holy water! It’s not safe for you anymore. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, my dear,” he was getting frantic, voice wobbling as tears welled in his eyes. “I tried to resist, I swear. I’m so sorry, but he _made_ me tell him. With his influence. I’m sorry.”

Crowley shook his head. “Then they know about you, too - that you aren’t immune to Hellfire. It’s just as dangerous for you as it is me, so that means we _both_ need to go, right _now _!”__

He tried to grab Aziraphale again, but the angel stubbornly stepped back, raising his hands.

“No! If I go with you, then he’ll never stop chasing us, but if …” his voice broke, and he wiped angrily at his eyes. “If _you_ go. By yourself, then there’s a good chance Heaven and Hell will just give it up. If I stay and appear loyal, then who cares about the demon, right? But you _must_ stop trying to contact me. You have to hide.”

“You’re an idiot, Aziraphale.” Crowley put his face in his palm and took a deep breath. “How is it that you’re always such an idiot? Listen, you refused me before, when I asked you to run away, but things are different now, aren’t they? You really have to come with me this time. I love you." 

Aziraphale’s lip trembled. “Oh, Crowley,” he practically crashed into the demon’s arms, hugging him tightly and sobbing into his chest. “Crowley, I love you so. That’s why you have to be safe. No matter what.”

“But what about you? You can’t expect me to just go off and leave you with that bastard. I won’t do it. I refuse. I don’t care if they _do_ douse me in holy water. It’s worth it if I can save you.”

“No!” Aziraphale pulled back, looking horrified. “No, I won’t have that! That is absolutely unacceptable!” 

“Then, let’s just both run and keep ahead of Gabriel. Now’s our chance. Maybe he’ll get bored.”

“He won’t,” Aziraphale shook his head sadly. “I promise, he won’t. He’s … invested. Angels are stubborn.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“Oh, hush. Please, Crowley. I do have an escape plan of my own.”

Crowley gave him a dubious look. “Really angel? How are you going to manage that?”

Aziraphale seemed to be a little put out, straightening up and looking serious. “Trust me, Crowley, please. I’m not as weak as you and Gabriel seem to think.”

 _Oops._ “Oh, Aziraphale, I didn’t mean -”

“I know I might be … _soft_ ,” he bit out the word angrily, “but I _was_ a guardian of Eden, you know. Everyone always seems to forget.”

“I know, Aziraphale. I know! I wasn’t trying to insult you, I’m just … worried.”

Aziraphale softened. “I know, darling, but I’m just as worried about you. I can’t lose you, no matter what.”

Then Aziraphale was kissing him, and just as quick Crowley was eagerly kissing him back. It was hot, wet, and painful. Crowley kissed his mouth, his cheeks, his eyelids, pressing his lips desperately to every bit of skin he could find, until finally, Aziraphale pulled back, panting, still clinging fiercely to Crowley. He pressed his forehead against Crowley’s chest.

“I don’t want to let you go,” Crowley said, his voice thick, giving the angel a squeeze.

Aziraphale sighed and opened his mouth to protest, but Crowley interrupted him, “But I will. I trust you. I’ll let you do whatever you need to, but I’m not going to sit back forever and wait, Angel. I want to know that you’re safe and not suffering anymore.” 

“I understand.”

“So, please, please, just promise me that you’re going to be safe. That your plan doesn’t put you in danger.”

“I’ll be safe,” Aziraphale said. “Perfectly safe.”

Crowley frowned. He didn’t believe Aziraphale one bit. But what could he do? It took every ounce of strength for him to just stand there and watch Aziraphale walk away.

* * *

It was dark in the bookshop when Aziraphale returned home. He stood in the doorway, listening, but didn’t hear any movement. He let out his breath and walked in, turning on the lights with a snap. 

“Where’ve you been, cupcake?”

Aziraphale made an undignified squeak. Gabriel was sitting with his legs casually crossed in Aziraphale’s favorite chair.

“G-Gabriel … I … I … I was just out. For a coffee and a little nibble. Y-you know me, always, er, peckish.”

Gabriel raised his eyebrows looking not at all amused, “Peckish, huh?”

“Y-yes. Had a hankering for some scones. They were delicious, by the way. Pity I didn’t know you were here, or I would have brought some back to share.”

He was rambling, voice pitched high and wobbly. Gabriel sneered at him. He stood up slowly and walked toward Aziraphale who instinctively took a step back.

“You lying whore,” Gabriel hissed, reaching out and grabbing a fistful of Aziraphale’s hair.

Aziraphale winced. “Gabriel, p-please - ”

Gabriel shook him and he cried out, eyes watering.

“You lying little whore. I can smell his demon stink all over you. You just couldn’t resist running back to him, could you?”

“Gabriel, I -”

“Did he fuck you?”

“No! I swear!”

“Liar!” Gabriel shouted in his face, practically frothing at the mouth. “Do you think I’m an idiot? He touched you. I can tell. He put his filthy, disgusting hands all over you. Did you forget that you are _mine_?”

He threw Aziraphale to the floor.

“Gabriel, I’m sorry. I swear we didn’t do anything. I was just telling him to go away. I promise!”

Gabriel snarled, “And sending him off with a little ‘goodbye fuck?’ Do _not_ take me lightly, Aziraphale. I am an Archangel, and you are a mere principality under _my_ jurisdiction. You WILL obey, or _else_! Are you loyal to Heaven or not? Don’t you love me?”

“I … I …” _just say it already. Tell him whatever he wants to hear._

“You’re disgusting,” Gabriel said darkly. “You’re hopeless, really, but I will get through to you if it’s the last thing I do, Aziraphale. You broke your promise, didn’t you? I’ve been too lenient with you again. Angels do need discipline.” He reached a hand down and carded his fingers through the soft fluffy curls on Aziraphale’s head. Gabriel was changing form slightly, the terrifying brilliance radiating around his shimmering body. “I’m sorry sweetheart, but you need to be punished.” 

“Please,” Aziraphale whispered, shaking his head, eyes pleading. 

Gabriel bent down and whispered softly in Aziraphale's ear, reminding him that he loved him.

And then Gabriel hurt him. 

* * *

Aziraphale lay panting on the floor. The wounds on his back had been reopened and were oozing blood. His clothes were disheveled, ripped in some places. His lip bled. His cheek was swollen. Skin tight and muscles aching, he could tell that his body would later be mottled with dark bruises. He groaned pitifully, praying that Gabriel was finished, but more concerned about how soon Crowley would be in immediate danger.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked for the umpteenth time, voice sore from screaming through Gabriel’s _discipline._

The Archangel was back in his human form, looking down his nose at Aziraphale, his gaze filled with disappointment.

“I know you are,” he said with a sigh. “You just can’t help yourself. You don’t need to worry anymore, though. I’ll take care of everything.”

“Please, Gabriel, I’m begging you,” Aziraphale winced as he crawled, groveling at Gabriels’ feet; a desperate supplicant, blubbering and pitiful. “I won’t ever see him again. I promise!”

“Oh, I guarantee that you won’t,” Gabriel said darkly.

“Please,” Aziraphale whispered, “I’ve done everything you asked.”

“It’s not enough.”

Aziraphale sobbed. Gabriel turned and walked toward the door.

“Wh-where are you going?” Aziraphale asked, terror creeping up his spine because he already _knew_.

“I’m going to find that fallen bastard and get rid of him.”

He slammed the door.

Aziraphale’s head was pounding. He struggled to get up, wincing at the piercing pain in his ribs. He staggered to his feet, arms wrapped around his middle, wheezing.

He was trembling so badly from pain and fear that he thought he might fall to the floor again. There wasn’t any time. He was terrified, but he had to act. _No time to waste. Can’t be a coward any longer._ Aziraphale healed himself.

Crowley couldn’t protect him, though Aziraphale loved him so, so much for trying. Gabriel was just too strong, and too obsessed with maintaining control over his angels. Aziraphale had always been a thorn in the Archangel’s side. Gabriel only wanted to destroy Crowley because of Aziraphale. Everything was Aziraphale’s fault, so it was time to take responsibility.

Aziraphale moved around the perimeter of the shop, warding it carefully as best he knew how. It would very likely keep Crowley out should he decide to do something stupid and heroic. The wards were barely enough to keep an Archangel at bay, however, but they would at the very least stall Gabriel if he were to return.

Once the wards were up, he closed his eyes and thought about Crowley. Crowley had to be protected at all costs. Aziraphale hadn’t been able to adequately fake things with Gabriel. It had been foolish to try. Now, there was only one option. It was time for Aziraphale to take himself out of the picture entirely.

Crowley wanted them to run away together, and that was certainly a lovely thought, but there was only one place Aziraphale could run that Gabriel wouldn’t follow. One place where he would be beyond the Archangel’s reach and, Aziraphale was sure, no longer of any interest to him. And if Gabriel had no interest in Aziraphale, then he’d have no reason to destroy Crowley. It was absurd that an Archangel and a demon were essentially fighting over him. _Just look at me. I’m nothing. I’ll make them see._

He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm his nerves. Then he drew the circle, lit the candles, and placed the call.

* * *

Crowley didn’t go home after Aziraphale left the bandstand. Instead, he walked, not going anywhere in particular, just walking. His nerves were frayed. He shouldn’t have let Aziraphale leave. He should have hauled the angel over his shoulder like some caveman and dragged him to Alpha Centauri.

The angel said he had a plan, but Crowley was certain it was something ridiculous. Aziraphale had already proved himself to be too self-sacrificing already. He was always trying to carry burdens on his own. Crowley shouldn’t have let him go.

Unsurprisingly, he found himself standing across the street from the bookshop. It was dangerous for him to be there.

He didn’t care.

With grim determination, he strode across the street and reached for the door only for his hand to be shocked. He drew it back with a hiss.

“What the … Angel, what are you doing?” he murmured to himself.

A ward. Hopefully Aziraphale’s and not the Archangel’s. Crowley backed away and then moved around the corner to the window, peering inside.

Aziraphale was alone, lighting candles. He stood in front of what Crowley now saw was a summoning circle. Aziraphale put his hands together and closed his eyes.

What was he doing? Was he _tattling_ to God? _Idiot. What are you thinking, Angel?_ Crowley had quite a few reasons to lack faith in Her, but maybe, just maybe, it would work. Hope bloomed tentatively in his chest. Perhaps it really would be that simple. God was busy, right? She couldn't notice _everything_. And maybe she would care if it was Aziraphale - sweet, precious Aziraphale, who was more like the humans God loved than any other angel.

A pillar of light shot up to the ceiling from the circle and Crowley leaned as close to the warded window as he could, listening intently.

“Hello? Yes? Can you hear me?” Aziraphale was saying loudly, eyes still closed.

“Speak, Principality.”

The Metatron.

“Yes, thank you,” Aziraphale looked up into the light. “Um, I have a … a m-message … for … God. Please tell her that I … that I … ”

Crowley frowned. Aziraphale’s voice trembled as he stuttered, sounding uncertain. _Spit it out, Angel._

Aziraphale cleared his throat and took a deep breath, “Tell Her that I r-renounce Heaven. And H-Her.”

Crowley’s heart sank and he practically leapt at the window, banging his fists against the glass, ignoring the lancing pain of the ward.

“No! Aziraphale, don’t! Don’t do this! Stop!”

Aziraphale looked to the window, the shock on his face quickly melting into something weary, but affectionate.

“Crowley,” he mouthed, eyes pained.

“Excuse me? What was that?” the Metatron asked, sounding aggravated.

“Yes, I’m sorry, Sir,” Aziraphale's eyes were now fierce and determined. His voice no longer quavered. “Tell God that I renounce Her. I am abandoning my role as principality and wish to withdraw from Heaven.”

“No! No!” Crowley was shouting, heedless of strange looks from passing humans.

"Are you _asking_ to fall, Principality?"

Aziraphale’s face paled, but he nodded. "Yes."

“Well!” The Metatron said. “Please, hold the line for a moment while I deliver that message directly.”

Crowley was shaking his head at him through the window, muttering _no, no, no_ over and over. _Please, take it back, Angel. Don’t do this. I don’t want this for you._

Aziraphale walked to the window and gave Crowley a terribly sad smile.

"Tell her you didn't mean it," Crowley said desperately. "Take it back, Angel!"

“I’m sorry, Crowley,” Aziraphale's voice broke. “But I don’t think you’ll be able to call me ‘Angel’ any longer.” There were tears in his eyes. “Please always remember me this way - angelic, holy, and pure.”

He turned around.

Crowley was about to shout at him again, but the pillar of light grew blinding, illuminating the entirety of the shop, and the demon was forced to look away.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for how long it has taken me to get this out. This was supposed to be the last chapter, but it was turning into a 10K word monstrosity, so I finally decided to just split it into two chapters to keep it more manageable! The next AND FINAL chapter shouldn't take very long at all, though, since it's almost finished!
> 
> Thank you for your patience and sticking with me!

Gabriel was going to find Crowley, drag him back to the bookshop, and then make Aziraphale watch him die.

But he wouldn’t just _kill_ Crowley. Not right away. That was too easy. He was going to summon a blessed blade first and use it to slice off his fingers, his tongue, his cock - anything that had touched Aziraphale. Just imagining it made the Archangel grin with malevolence. He was consumed by a greater rage than he’d ever thought possible. It boiled hot and painful in his gut and fueled his frantic search for the demon.

Gabriel miracled himself rapidly from one location to another, seeking out the demonic aura that was unique to the Serpent of Eden. He wasn’t having much luck and he was growing increasingly frustrated as the night wore on.

He took a break at about half past eleven, leaning against a brick wall near a row of dive bars he’d learned from some backchannel intel was a location the demon frequented, wondering if he could call in some additional favors to help him find Crowley without raising too much suspicion. He was weighing his options when, with a jolt, he suddenly sensed an open line from earth directly to the Almighty. No, not just from Earth, but from London. And this wasn’t just some human prayer, but an _actual call._ A call from an angel. An idiotic angel in Soho who was most likely located in a ratty little bookshop. Gabriel was certain of it.

 _What the fuck._ What was that little shit thinking? How dare Aziraphale go behind his back to speak with _Her_? He ground his teeth so hard his jaw ached.

At once, Gabriel snapped himself back to an alley across the street from Aziraphale’s shop, absolutely fuming, the gears in his mind turning with malicious plans to show Aziraphale just how he felt about this little act of defiance. He would teach Aziraphale to cross him. It was bad enough Aziraphale had gone and fucked the demon _again_ , but now this? Gabriel would make sure the recalcitrant angel sorely regretted his transgressions.

He jogged around the corner towards the bookshop, intent on reaching Aziraphale as quickly as possible. Hopefully before the little shit could start running his mouth to the Metatron and Gabriel was forced to play damage control. Just before Gabriel reached the street, he suddenly skidded to a stop, shock halting him in his tracks. There on the sidewalk was _Crowley_ of all entities, shouting and banging his fists against the shop window. Humans side-eyed the commotion as they passed, some looking amused, others a bit nervous, hurrying away.

Gabriel could only stare for several beats, unable to process this turn of events. He’d spent all evening looking for Crowley, and here he was, right back where he’d started. The corners of his mouth twitched and Gabriel grinned. _Well, two birds, one stone …_ How convenient.

He advanced on Crowley, but the demon didn’t even seem to notice the Archangel’s approach, still beating his hands against the window. Gabriel grabbed the collar of his jacket and wrenched him back, throwing him to the ground. Crowley landed on his backside with a shout and gaped up at Gabriel, his sunglasses askew, revealing those putrid yellow eyes.

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing here?” Gabriel sneered down at him.

The confusion on Crowley’s face quickly turned to rage and he lunged at Gabriel, snarling.

“This is all your fault, you bastard!”

They scuffled ridiculously for a moment, keeping their supernatural powers in check in lieu of the gathering human witnesses. Gabriel didn’t have time for this nonsense. Having the physical advantage in a hand-to-hand fight, he overpowered the scrawny demon, knocking his sunglasses to the ground with a brutal backhand to his face and then shoving him away. Gabriel then whirled around and raced to the shop door only to find it not only locked, but _warded._

_That little shit. Who did he think he was messing with?_

To Hell with the witnesses, Gabriel could deal with them later. He stepped back, held out his hands and blew open the entire front entrance of the shop. It was an inelegant way to deal with such a weak ward, but he was short on time, and getting more than a little nervous about how long Aziraphale had been on the call to the Almighty already.

A pillar tipped over with a crash, bricks and bits of wood flew through the air and dust billowed out into the street. Car tires squealed and horns blared. People screamed and ran, several taking pictures with their cell phones. _Fuck._ The cleanup was going to be an ordeal, but Gabriel was desperate, crazed. He knew that Aziraphale was in there right this moment placing a call to _God_ while Gabriel was wasting time engaging in fisticuffs with a demon in the middle of Soho. This day was just one big fuck up after another.

The dust settled and Gabriel stepped over the rubble into the shop lobby to find Aziraphale cowering. The angel peeked out from beneath his raised arms, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Hello there, sunshine. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The phony smile plastered on Gabriel’s face was full of malice.

Aziraphale’s expression turned even more panicked as he realized it was Gabriel looming amidst the rubble of his shop entrance. He opened his mouth to speak, but was immediately interrupted by the Metatron appearing in the pillar of light beside him.

 _Shit._ Gabriel fell to a knee at once, bowing his head in reverence. One simply did _not_ interrupt an audience with the Metatron. He could only hope that his presence would quell Aziraphale into keeping his trap shut.

“I’ve taken your request to the Almighty, Principality.”

 _Fuck!_ Had Aziraphale already squealed like the pig he was? Beads of sweat broke out along Gabriel’s hairline.

Aziraphale looked like he was going to be sick, an uncanny blend of hope and terror on his simple, pudgy face. What _exactly_ had he requested? Gabriel’s heart raced.

“Your request has been … denied.”

Gabriel quirked an eyebrow.

“B-b-but ...” Aziraphale sputtered, his own eyebrows furrowed. “Did you t-tell Her? What I said? I asked to f-fall. I renounced Heaven! I quit!” His fists were balled by his sides, and he practically stamped his foot like a toddler having a tantrum.

The Metatron’s impassive demeanor came as close to impatient as was possible for the entity.

“Your request is not sincere, Principality. The Almighty knows your heart and there is no true rebellion within it. You have done nothing that warrants being cast out. Please, Aziraphale, do not waste our time again. We are hanging up now.”

“Wait!” Aziraphale reached towards the light just as it blinked out. “Wait, please!”

Crazed, stuttering laughter bubbled up in Gabriel’s throat as relief coursed through his body. He cackled almost hysterically as he stood up.

“You fucking moron!” he said, still chuckling, feeling more than a little smug. “You actually asked to fall?”

Suddenly, it didn’t seem so funny. Gabriel stopped laughing at once, his face darkening.

“Do you hate being with me that much, Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale at least had the decency to look guilty.

“No, Gabriel. I love you,” he said, but it came out too quickly, too robotic. Gabriel sneered.

“Such a liar,” he snarled. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. You heard what She said, didn’t you? Looks like you won’t be running off to Hell to whore yourself to the demons after all, Zira.”

Aziraphale winced, shoulders drawing inward, tucking his chin in defeat. Gabriel strode toward him with furious determination, and grabbed a fistful of snowy curls, wrenching Aziraphale’s head back, forcing him to look the Archangel in the eye. Aziraphale looked like he was about to cry. He was so pretty when he cried. Gabriel had plans for him that would make him cry quite a lot.

“Bet you thought you were pretty clever with that little trick,” he continued, leaning down until he was right in Aziraphale’s face. “Trying to get Mommy to save you, huh? But you couldn’t be honest about everything you’ve done without admitting what a depraved slut you are. Too scared of Heaven’s wrath to do that, huh?” He touched his lips to the shell of Aziraphale’s ear and murmured, “I don’t remember giving you permission to heal yourself after I punished you earlier, sweetheart.”

Aziraphale had the audacity to struggle in Gabriel’s grip, but a firm tug on his hair stilled him. Gabriel trailed his free hand up Aziraphale’s chest, pressing firmly against his throat before gripping his chin with a rough, cruel squeeze.

“Oh, Aziraphale, you still have so much to learn about obedience and respect. You just keep forgetting that you’re mine. Luckily I have eternity to teach you.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened and then shut. He trembled in Gabriel’s firm grip.

A deep, ghastly, snarling growl-hiss rumbled from the doorway. Gabriel turned to see Crowley, in all his demonic glory, crouched and ready to spring. A combination of the wards and the presence of the Metatron had presumably kept him at bay, but here he was now, ready to fight for Aziraphale’s honor. Or whatever was left of it. The Archangel barked out a laugh. _What a fool. The both of them._

“Really?” Gabriel snarked, a bemused look on his face. “Crowley, if you were smart, you would have taken the opportunity to escape while I was distracted.” He grinned broadly, perfect white teeth practically bared. “But we both know you aren’t very smart, don’t we? You idiots barely have two brain cells to rub together.”

Quick as a serpent’s strike, Crowley attacked. Reacting quickly in kind, like a strike of lightning, Gabriel pushed Aziraphale to the floor and began to dodge the fangs and demon claws coming furiously at him.

“You bastard!” Crowley roared, unearthly voice echoing in the shop. “I won’t let you hurt him again!”

A razor sharp claw lanced across Gabriel’s cheek. Crowley was faster than the last time, enraged to the point of berserk. The Archangel struggled to evade in his human corporation, only able to leap and duck without getting the chance to even attempt a hit.

He couldn’t continue to hold back his powers like this. He’d already blown up half a bookshop in the middle of Soho, so _in for a penny, in for a pound._ He took a great leap back and held out his hands, sending an invisible blast at Crowley that knocked the demon to the floor. Gabriel didn’t allow him to recover, but sent another shot, and then another, lightning flashing with each burst of power.

Crowley strained against the invisible force pinning him to the floor, veins in his neck bulging, yellow eyes bloodshot. He growled like a beast, mouth wide and huge fangs dripping. Gabriel was shocked that the demon was strong enough to fight so hard against an Archangel’s power. He walked slowly to where the demon lay, gnashing and snapping his teeth.

Gabriel stared down at him and Crowley, regaining a bit of composure, glared back.

“Well, doesn’t this look familiar?” Gabriel said, jeering. “This is exactly what happened the last time you made a futile attempt at trying to save him. Looks like I’ve got you on your back again.” His jeer turned lascivious. “Pity you can’t _enjoy_ it like Zira does.”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” Crowley hissed.

“Now, how do you think you’ll manage that? Didn’t you hear the Metatron? No divine intervention is coming. Not for Aziraphale and most definitely not for demon filth like you.”

“You’ll never win,” Crowley said, eyes boring into Gabriel’s.

The Archangel screwed up his face. “Um, looks like I already have, champ. A valiant effort, though.” He gave a perfunctory little tennis clap. “I really knocked the sense out of you, didn’t I? Not that you had much to begin with, but if you think you have any chance at beating me, then you’re an even bigger moron than I thought. Just so I’m sure you understand, I am going to kill you now.”

Crowley smirked. “You can get rid of me, but Aziraphale will never belong to you. He doesn’t love you, and you bring him no pleasure.”

Gabriel couldn’t stop the annoyed little tendon twitch in his neck even as he bit back, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Crowley seized onto the insecurity, smirking. “His wings ever pop for you, stud muffin? No? I didn’t think so. They did for me. Glorious, beautiful, and as sweet as his cunt tasted when I was - _Aaargh!_ ”

Gabriel used a surge of angelic power to stomp Crowley’s knee, snapping and crushing the bones and cartilage easily beneath his foot. Crowley screamed, and Gabriel ground his shoe into his ruined leg.

“You just don’t know when to shut up, do you?” Gabriel’s nostrils flared. “I’ve had more than enough of you.”

Gabriel reached inside his jacket, miraculously pulling out a large glass decanter that had been tucked inside some supernatural pocket. It was filled with a crystal clear liquid.

“I meant to do this slowly,” he said, making an effort to sound bored, though the thrill of destroying the demon boiled in his veins. “Slice you up and make you suffer. But I’ve got a Hell of a mess to clean up thanks to a badly behaved angel who still needs to learn his place, so it looks like I’ll be disposing of you quickly.”

Crowley ground his teeth, writhing in agony as Gabriel crushed his shattered kneecap. There was more than enough holy water in that decanter to leave a Crowley-shaped stain on the floor. He’d seen what had happened to Ligur. This was it then. The end. _Sorry, Angel._

Gabriel pulled the cork out of the decanter and let a single drop fall from it onto Crowley’s torso. The liquid seemed to penetrated his shirt immediately, burning his stomach, the skin instantly bubbling, blistering, and charring black. Crowley let out an ear-piercing shriek and stiffened, unable to move away while still bound. The pain was unreal, unfathomable. He screamed and hissed while Gabriel just smiled calmly down at him. Crowley wished desperately he could look at Aziraphale one last time before he died - and he now knew for certain that he was about to die - but he couldn’t even manage to lift his head, still pinned down, body engulfed in pained agony. Then Gabriel began to tilt the decanter and Crowley made a strangled, desperate sound, squeezing his eyes shut.

Several things happened at once. There was a loud crack, followed by a tremendous gust of wind and then a shattering crash from across the room. Crowley’s eyes snapped open. Gabriel was standing over him with his brow furrowed, staring in confusion at his now empty hand where the decanter had been. He turned and Crowley followed his gaze to a puddle of what was presumably holy water amongst broken glass on the floor. Several yards away.

Crowley blinked once and then Gabriel seemed to be blown away by another gust of wind. Crowley felt the supernatural pressure on his body release, a giant weight lifted from his injured, weakened form, and he struggled to push up on his elbows, bringing a hand to clutch at the ruined skin of the holy water wound. Burning agony lanced through his gut and his knee still throbbed. He could only stare for several heartbeats, too shocked by what he was seeing to react.

Aziraphale’s back was to Crowley, his enormous white wings spread out full-span behind him. He had Gabriel by the throat in one hand, pressed against the wall, lifted up with his feet dangling about a foot from the ground. Gabriel kicked his legs in the air and clawed at the meaty hand around his neck, but Aziraphale didn’t even flinch. Crowley continued to stare, mouth gaping.

A spattering of glowing teal eyes blinked into existence across Aziraphale’s wings, and then a voice spoke, somewhat like Aziraphale's but also entirely different and terrifying in its metaphysical reverberations.

“You will _not_ harm him, Archangel. I am Aziraphale of the Eastern Gate, Principality of Earth, and I shall not allow it.”

Gabriel stared with bulging eyes at Aziraphale for a moment before recovering, baring his teeth and roaring as his own celestial power erupted from within. Aziraphale was pushed back, sliding across the floor on his feet, but easily regained balance by bringing just one hand to the floor. He crouched, wings spread, ethereal fire now blazing amongst the feathers and the eyes. He was painfully brilliant, glowing, all his pent up celestial energy, sealed off and cowed for years, seemed to _leak_ from his pores. Crowley had to squint, overwhelmed by the magnitude of power.

Crowley realized suddenly that the power he sensed was coming from Gabriel, too, who had responded to Aziraphale’s true form by releasing his own. Gleaming ivory feathers and deadly looking talons emerging as he expanded in size, fearful golden menace emanating outward from the multitude of violet eyes.

The waves of power undulated almost visibly in the air as the two angels faced off. The lights flickered and then bulbs began to blow out, glass shattering. Something exploded outside on the street followed by a rush of water. Crowley realized a water main had burst. He could hear the wail of sirens in the distance. _This was bad._

Gabriel charged at Aziraphale. The two met with a tremendous clap of thunder. The earth shook as they struck at one another. They were moving so quickly Crowley could hardly keep up, his head pounding from the painfully strong angelic energy weighing down the room, particularly heavy on his demonic essence. The angels were a whirlwind of wings, eyes, a tornado of destruction, slashing furiously with claws and talons. Books slid from shelves, shelves crashed to the ground, windows broke and shattered. People were screaming and shouting outside. The sirens grew louder, closer.

 _This was really, really bad._ Gabriel and Aziraphale were oblivious to it all, seeming more like creatures than sentient beings at this point, each only focused on overpowering the other. Such a battle being waged between two angels in their true forms on earth was a disaster. If they kept on, they weren’t only going to destroy the city, or even the country, but possibly the entire planet.

Crowley had to _do_ something. He knew he was no match for them, especially so weakened from injury. It took all his effort to crawl, clutching his stomach and dragging his broken leg behind him toward the summoning circle. Would She even answer the call from a Fallen? He had to try.

He reached the chalk drawing where the surrounding candles were still miraculously burning despite the celestial hurricane raging nearby. The sounds of angelic battle behind him were deafening, the wind from it battering against his ears, blowing his hair straight into the air. Crowley tried to tamp down his panic, worried not only for Aziraphale and himself, but for humanity and earth, as well. He needed to focus.

He reached into the circle, placing his palm down directly on the runes.

“Please,” he said, voice coming out a soft rasp, completely inaudible against the cacophony. He coughed and raised his voice as much as he was able. “Please! Please answer! You have to _do_ something!”

Nothing happened. Hey let his head fall, cheek to the floor, defeated. He closed his eyes. He’d been ready to die just moments before, but now tears burned at the corners of his eyes. He and Aziraphale had worked so hard to forestall the apocalypse. All of their suppressed feelings for one another were finally out in the open, as well. After six thousand years, things were just getting started. It had taken so long, and had been so difficult, only for it to all end like this?

Suddenly, his hand erupted into flames. At least, that’s what it felt like. He hissed, drawing his burning hand to his chest and snapping his head up. The pillar of light was back! Heaven had answered the call.

“Please!” he shouted above the wind buffeting about his head, whipping at his hair. “You have to stop them! They’re going to destroy the whole bloody planet! I’m begging you!”

Everything stopped at once. An eerie, heavy silence settled over Crowley, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up, the air charged with electricity. The pain in Crowley’s body flared unbearably and he winced. His hand was red now, too, burned by the holy light from the circle. His heartbeat was so, so loud in his ears against the sudden quiet. His head grew light and his vision blurry. What was happening?

Then there was a voice. A pleasant voice. A voice that somehow _glowed_ , tinkling with starlight, tasting of honeyed milk and sweet wine. It fully engulfed his essence, pleasure and comfort seeping into Crowley’s core. But it was also accompanied by an unpleasant jolt of the sting of disappointment and failure, the smell of burning sulfur and ash. And then his physical pain began to fade, and he was getting so, so sleepy, struggling to keep his eyes open, the lids drooping uncontrollably as he threatened to pass out.

“Thank you, my child, myᄃЯӨΛЩPΉΛΣᄂ,” the voice said softly. His _name_! His _old_ name, his _true_ name. In the old tongue. He’d forgotten it. How could he have forgotten? A sob rose unbidden from deep in his throat. The voice spoke again, and he knew he was the only one who could hear it. That it was only for him. “Rest now, ᄃЯӨΛЩPΉΛΣᄂ. You’ve done well.”

He tried desperately to stay awake. He had so many questions, so many things he wanted to ask Her. Endless things he wanted to say. But his consciousness slipped away, beyond his grasp, and his head dropped softly to the ground.

* * *

Gentle fingers were combing through Crowley’s hair. It felt so nice. He sighed softly, warm and comfortable. A fleece blanket was pulled up to his shoulders. He cracked an eye and saw that it was tartan. That made him smile. _Of course_ it was tartan. His head was in somebody’s lap. _Aziraphale._ Of course. Crowley turned toward the angel’s stomach and breathed in the warm, sweet scent of him.

He shifted carefully, realizing with a start that he was not in any pain. He remembered why that was so unexpected as recent memories came crashing over him. He tried to move, planning to get up and seek out answers, but he was feeling so floaty and unfocused, fully opening his eyes an insurmountable task.

Aziraphale began to speak quietly, but not to Crowley.

“Can’t you give me an answer, Lord? Is it … is it all right to love him?”

Aziraphale ran a hand down the side of Crowley’s face. The demon’s ears perked up, though his eyes remained closed. It was too easy to pretend to be asleep, feeling as drowsy as he did.

The voice that answered was one he recognized well. _Her_ voice. “Oh, Aziraphale, my sweet little lamb, that’s an answer you must find for yourself. But I have every faith in you and the decisions you will make from here.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale sounded a bit disappointed by the evasive answer. Crowley couldn’t blame him. He’d been curious, as well. “Well, Lord, I don’t think there’s anything I can do about it. I can’t - I _won’t_ stop loving him.” Crowley's heart swelled.

“You were made for love, my child. Worry not on these matters for now. Rest. Both of you.”

The tips of Crowley’s ears tingled. From behind his eyelids, he saw the room darken. He felt more than heard Aziraphale sigh, still absently petting Crowley’s head.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley murmured, stretching his neck and finally forcing his eyes open.

“Oh, you’re awake!” Aziraphale looked down at him, a warm, fond smile on his face. “You needn’t rush. You can rest more if you need to.”

But Crowley was already struggling to sit up, curiosity outweighing the desire for sleep. Aziraphale helped guide him out of his lap, and they sat shoulder to shoulder staring at the deactivated summoning circle.

“How are you feeling?” Aziraphale asked.

“Fine, Angel.”

“She healed you, but I was worried you might still be sore or something.”

“Nah, I’m perfect.” He was. It was as though he’d never been injured, like he’d never come into contact with a deadly drop of holy water. “Never better.”

“Oh, good,” Aziraphale said with a relieved sigh.

The tartan blanket still lay across Crowley’s lap and he fidgeted with the edge.

“What were you, um,” Crowley blushed a bit, “talking to _Her_ about?”

“Oh, well, quite a lot of things, actually,” Aziraphale said, not specifying any of them.

“Angel,” Crowley turned to Aziraphale, looking and feeling a bit lost, having missed how they’d gotten from a celestial battle to tartan blanket snuggling. “What happened?”

Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to blush. “It seems I … er … lost control. A bit.”

 _Understatement of the year._ Crowley glanced around the shop. It was surprisingly perfect. Nothing was broken. Not even a book or trinket looked out of place from what he could remember. The street outside was quiet, and Crowley could see through the window the first rays of dawn lighting up the sky as the lampposts flickered out.

Crowley frowned. “Where’s Gabriel?”

“Home. Heaven,” Aziraphale clarified.

“Is he … I mean, will there be … what happens now?”

“Oh, well, the Heavenly Council is apparently furious with Gabriel. Michael was here briefly to fetch him. I expect he’ll be punished.”

“You ‘expect he’ll be punished?’” Crowley gaped at him before fury settled onto his face. “Well, I should hope so! A whole load of punishment is what he deserves. D’you think he’s going to fall?” Crowley couldn’t help but grin with eager spite at the thought.

“Oh, good Heavens, no!”

Crowley grimaced. “Why not? He’s been sinning it up all over from what I’ve seen.”

“Sins are for _humans_ , you know. I know it’s been a long time for you, but angels have a different set of rules, if you’ll recall. And the Almighty has, well, lightened up a bit over the years. Nobody’s been cast out in ages.”

“Pity. I’d have liked to spend some time with him down there.”

“Crowley…” Aziraphale chided, but it didn’t sound at all sincere.

“It’s just not fair. After all he’s done to you.” Crowley reached out to take Aziraphale’s hand, needing to show that ‘what Gabriel had done’ didn’t in any way negate Crowley’s feelings, his love. “Why did the Almighty let all that happen?”

“You know She doesn’t involve herself in such details. The angels are more or less self-governing now while She … observes. I suppose it could have even been some sort of test. Ineffable and all that.”

“I _hate_ that word.”

“I know, darling, I’m sorry. The Almighty was very angry with him, if that’s any consolation. And Michael assured me that he won’t be causing me any more trouble, so ... that’s that, I suppose. Of course, I’ll probably be facing some sort of reprimand, as well.”

“What?! But that’s not fair -”

“I really didn’t handle things well at all,” Aziraphale said, squirming and looking contrite. “I shouldn’t have released my powers like that in front of humans. Or anywhere on Earth, really. And none of it would have happened if I hadn't played my part in stopping the Apocalypse. That was why I couldn't go directly to Heaven about Gabriel's ... behavior. Anyway, the cleanup was a disaster. All those witnesses, you know.”

Crowley grumbled. “Still. I’d say you were more than justified.” Crowley sighed and then deflated. “It’s was all my fault, really. I’m sorry. It was because of me that you … I mean, I should have been stronger. I wanted so badly to protect you, to save you, but you ended up saving me. I’m pathetic.”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale threw his arms around Crowley’s slender frame, squeezing hard. “You were magnificent. My knight in shining armour. Just like always. Even both of us together wouldn't have been a match for Gabriel. I would certainly have lost the fight had it gone on much longer. It was probably hard to tell, but I was quickly losing ground. Badly. I was only able to hold him off and keep him away from you since I had the element of surprise. He never dreamed I’d attack him.” Aziraphale shrugged. “To be honest, I wasn’t thinking clearly at all. I just couldn’t let him hurt you. I went mad over it. You were brilliant, though, my darling. You stopped it all before any permanent damage was done. To anyone or anything. Thank you.”

“No, Angel,” Crowley squeezed him back, “Thank _you_. I didn’t do anything but beg for help.”

“And that was the right thing to do,” Aziraphale praised and Crowley had to duck his head as his face warmed at it. “And it _was_ brave. It's a risky thing for a demon to summon up the Almighty.”

Crowley sighed, but the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. His heart felt lighter than it had in ages. They were _safe._ For the moment, at least. “So … now what?”

Aziraphale smiled shyly. “Well, to be honest, I am a bit peckish. Apparently releasing my true form worked up an enormous appetite.”

Crowley grinned back and with a snap of his fingers they had reservations at the Ritz. There was still an awful lot to talk about, but first, dinner.


	8. Chapter 8

Aziraphale tried not to pick too fiercely at his cuticles as he rode the escalator up to Heaven. It felt strange, awkward even, being back, having been away since before the Apaconot. Of course, Aziraphale’s corporation had been there with Crowley once after (the thought of Crowley having been _inside_ him in some way made him blush a little) but that didn’t count.

Heaven had asked him back, though. It had started with a note. A note with a very politely worded request to perform a minor miracle. After he’d done so, there were more. A blessing request here, a miracle there. He hadn’t minded at all, and had gladly carried out the requests. It felt like the right thing to do in light of the understanding that there would be no further attempts at Armageddon and that Aziraphale and Crowley would be free to “fraternize” without interference from above. It felt like a new and better “Arrangement” - one Aziraphale could live with. A life without all the guilt and fear. For the most part, at least.

Still, Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel nervous returning to the home office. A small shadow of fear did remain deep inside him after everything Gabriel had done in the name of Heaven. Aziraphale was comforted to know that Gabriel had been wrong (Crowley reminded him of this fact constantly), but recovery was a long road, as they said.

He barely passed any angels in the halls of Heaven, but he felt twitchy all the same. Finally, he made it to Michael’s office and knocked softly on the door.

“Come in. Oh, Aziraphale,” she smiled kindly at him. “I’m so glad you came.”

“Of course. You summoned me.”

“Well,” she made a strange face, but quickly recovered. “Yes, well. You could have refused … all things considered. I’m so pleased that you _did_ come, though. And I’m so very thankful that you had time to carry out those favors I asked for.”

“Sure,” Aziraphale was feeling wrongfooted. Michael had never before showed him such deference. Had certainly never been so _thankful_. “It was no problem. My pleasure.”

“So,” she fiddled with a pen on her desk. “What would you say to resuming your former duties full time? As Principality, I mean?”

He raised his eyebrows.

She continued, appearing awkwardly remorseful. It was a very strange look on her. “Of course, provided my promises still stand. I guarantee Gabriel won’t bother you. He’s been demoted, and he was thoroughly … reprimanded.” She grimaced and Aziraphale couldn’t help but be curious what form of punishment would make the Archangel Michael uncomfortable. “And Heaven will look the other way regarding the demon Crowley, as well.”

Relief flooded through Aziraphale. It truly was the best of all worlds. He _loved_ being an angel, but he loved Crowley much, much more. He would have given it all up in a heartbeat for Crowley. Now he didn’t have to choose.

“Yes!” he said, smiling broadly. “Of course, yes. I’d love to! But, um, what about _my_ … er ... punishment? For, well …” _nearly obliterating a city_ “you know.” His smile shrunk to a rueful little grin.

She waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, that? Never you mind, Aziraphale. It never happened.”

More relief. He was absolutely tingling with it. “Oh, good. Thank you, Michael!”

A bit of paperwork and pleasantries later and things felt back to normal. Only better. Aziraphale felt lighter than he had in ages. He left Michael’s office with more than a bit of skip to his step. He had never felt so uplifted in Heaven, at least not since he’d been stationed on Earth, and he practically bounced as he rounded a corner, eager to head home and share the good news with Crowley. So eager that he nearly crashed right into Uriel.

“Oh, Uriel! Terribly sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going!” He chuckled.

They smile at him. “Glad to see you’re back in action, Aziraphale.”

“Yes, me as well. Now, I really must be off - ”

“Wait!” They held out their hand and miracled up a short stack of manila envelopes stuffed with papers. “I’m running late for a meeting, so if you don’t mind terribly, could you please take these down to prayer filing for me?”

Aziraphale wavered, longing to get home to his books, his cocoa, and his demon.

“Please?” Uriel begged, pressing the folders into Aziraphale’s arms despite his hesitation. “Just drop them off. I’d really appreciate it.” They were giving him a very strange smile. Aziraphale returned the odd look with his own lopsided grin, eyebrows quirked. He supposed he could spare a few extra minutes.

“Er, sure, Uriel.”

“Thank you! I’ll make it up to you, I promise!”

They breezed away without another word.

Aziraphale gave his head a little shake and shrugged. Prayer Filing was on the way to the exit, more or less. It couldn’t hurt to pay a little goodwill towards the Archangels now that he was back working for them officially.

He pushed open the revolving door to Prayer Filing and stopped dead in his tracks.

The main space was small, an open floor filled with cubicles. Angels bustled about in activity. It smelled of ink, dried paint and glue. Several of the fluorescent lights flickered. Sitting at a shoddy little desk in the back corner stamping documents was none other than Gabriel. His hair was mussed and greasy, and he sported a dark five o’clock shadow. His suit looked worn, shabby even, the tie loose and sloppy around his neck. If Aziraphale hadn’t known him so well, he’d have barely recognized him.

“Oy, Gabe!” a voice snapped from a side office and Gabriel visibly cringed. “Aren’t you finished with those yet?”

“Y-yes, just a moment!” The former Archangel hurried to finish stamping and then gathered the paperwork in his hands, jumping up, banging his knee on the desk in his haste and then darting quickly towards the voice.

That’s when he noticed Aziraphale standing at the entrance. He paled, looking horrified and stumbled, the papers slipping from his hands and flying across the floor.

“Gabriel, for goodness sake, be careful!” a nearby angel scolded. Aziraphale didn’t even recognize her, so she couldn’t be very high up at all.

Feeling strange about it, but unable to resist the inclination, Aziraphale handed his own folders to a nearby angel and rushed over to where Gabriel was kneeling on the ground, frantically gathering the scattered papers.

“Let me help you,” Aziraphale said softly, reaching for a page.

Gabriel winced away from Aziraphale as though he expected to be struck. “Oh, A-Aziraphale! P-Please, please, don’t bother! You don’t need to … Oh, I just mean … I’m sorry, so sorry! Sorry ..” Gabriel rambled on, continuing to apologize as he stacked the papers with shaky hands.

Gabriel was _trembling_ , his shoulders were hunched, and he continued to mumble apologies and excuses, looking like he might burst into tears at any moment. He kept his terror-stricken eyes downcast. He finally got the paperwork under control, body jerking when Aziraphale’s hand grazed his arm to add a few papers to the stack.

“Thank you,” Gabriel muttered before quickly shuffling away towards the side office from where he’d been called. Aziraphale stared after him, blinking in astonishment at the way Gabriel stooped, looking several inches shorter than he used to.

“I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but he used to be an Archangel.”

It was the angel who had snapped at Gabriel. She wore a simple grey tunic and her mousy hair was in a neat bun. She leaned against her cubicle and spoke softly, eyes sparkling at sharing gossip with a fresh pair of ears.

“He was demoted recently for inappropriate behavior. Don’t ask, nobody has any idea what he did exactly, but I guess it wasn’t enough to _Fall_. But I hear he was _brutally_ punished. If he rolls his sleeves or his shirt rides up I swear you can actually _see_ some of the scars. He jumps like a scared rabbit at anything. Really makes you think about keeping on the straight and narrow, doesn’t it?” She blew out an exaggerated breath and then leaned closer to Aziraphale, adding in a conspiratorial whisper, “I even hear they clipped his wings.” The angel sighed. “A pity. I can tell he was pretty to look at before.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale breathed, unable to muster any additional response to the flood of information. He understood now. Uriel had _wanted_ him to see this. He silently thanked them, though he felt dizzy, his head reeling.

Aziraphale knew that Gabriel was going to be punished, but he’d never imagined it would be like this. He’d honestly expected some slap on the wrist, but apparently Heaven had taken his transgressions very seriously. Gabriel was completely changed, a broken angel. Aziraphale wasn’t sure what to make of it. Seeing Gabriel about as threatening as a kitten helped to ease some of his lingering fears, but he couldn’t help but suppress a shudder at what a terrifying and vengeful force the Almighty could still be. Gabriel may not have fallen, but he hadn’t been off the hook by a long shot.

* * *

An angel and a demon were sitting in a bookshop in Soho enjoying tea while discussing the state of things.

Oddly enough, no actual tea was being consumed. Crowley was tolerating a black coffee while Aziraphale was thoroughly enjoying a hot cocoa topped with heavy whipping cream and a plateful of assorted biscuits. The plate had been set out on the table between them to share, but Crowley had no intention of touching them lest he foolishly choose one that Aziraphale really wanted.

“So, they’ve asked you back, too, then?” Aziraphale clarified through a mouthful of biscuit. “For good? Well, for evil, I suppose,” he chuckled at his joke. “I mean, the old temptation job?”

“More or less the same,” Crowley said, taking a swig of coffee. “I was pretty surprised to receive a temptation request - a _request_ , mind you, not an _order_ , but I thought well … why not? Took care of it then popped down to Beelzebub’s office to hand in the report personally and they practically grovelled begging me back, so what could I do? I agreed to get back to it, provided it’s all on my own terms, and they won’t go sticking their nose in my business. My primary business being you, Angel.” He winked. “They agreed to leave us alone.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Aziraphale beamed back and Crowley had to hide his face in another caffeinated gulp to stop from blushing at the angel’s radiance.

“Yeah,” he said finally once recovered. “I guess we’re back where we started.”

“Only much, much better, my dear,” Aziraphale said, reaching out and placing his hand atop Crowley’s. “No more sneaking around, terrified of getting caught. Worried about _fraternizing._ ”

“The Arrangement, but sanctified by both sides, eh?”

“The Arrangement but _better._ The Arrangement and _then some_ ,” Aziraphale said with a sly little smile.

Crowley’s face heated and he struggled to swallow his latest sip of coffee. “Oh! Well, then … er, yes. Better and then some and all that. Great.”

Aziraphale smiled fondly at the demon and plucked another biscuit from the plate, taking a small bite and chewing on it thoughtfully.

“I saw Gabriel, by the way,” he said, trying and failing to sound casual.

Crowley stiffened and looked up very slowly and carefully at Aziraphale, his own attempt at sounding casual just as unsuccessful. “Oh yeah? Is that so? And … er … how was that?”

Aziraphale put the rest of the biscuit down, his face screwing up. “Strange. He’d been punished, you see. And it was like he was a completely different angel. He was _frightened_ of me. Of me! Whatever they did to him, he’s changed, been brought low. I feel a little guilty about it, but I think it was … good … for me to see him like that.”

Crowley frowned. “You shouldn’t feel guilty, Angel. He deserves whatever he got. Worse even.”

“Someone told me they’d clipped his wings.”

Crowley drew in a sharp breath. “Do you think that’s true?”

It was a terrible fate for an angel. Not as bad as falling, but nearly so. Not only did it cut an angel off from the otherwise ever present sensation of the Almighty’s love, but it severed them from all celestial powers and strength. It wasn’t necessarily permanent, but Crowley supposed it could be if _She_ decided so.

“I’m not sure,” Aziraphale said with a shrug. “Gabriel was too terrified for me to say much of anything to him, so I didn’t stick around to ask.”

Crowley huffed, “Well, I hope they did. He deserves it. Don’t you go feeling sorry for that monster.”

“I know, my dear, but I just can’t revel in it. I don’t have it in me,” Aziraphale said with a sigh, and Crowley loved him for it in spite of his own anger towards Gabriel. Crowley would gladly hold all that rage inside himself on behalf of his sweet angel. Aziraphale cocked his head. “However, I’m glad I saw him. I’d sort of, I don’t know, built him up as this boogeyman in my mind, but now I see he’s just a bully who’s lost all his power. It’s a bit silly, I know.”

“‘S’not, Angel.”

“Well. I suppose I was - _am_ still harboring a lot of leftover fear, but after seeing him like that … now he doesn’t seem quite so scary.”

“The power of retribution,” Crowley said, nodding. “Or just karma.”

Aziraphale nodded, as well, and then went quiet, contemplative. “It helps to know _for certain_ that what he did wasn’t right. That it _wasn’t_ sanctioned by Heaven.”

“Of course it wasn’t, Angel," Crowley tried to hold in the exasperation, and his expression was pained. Aziraphale smiled at him, though, and he softened.

They sat in silence for a long while, sipping their beverages, Aziraphale nibbling on biscuits, until he finally spoke again.

“I think I’d like you to make love to me.”

Crowley, who was mid-sip of his drink, sputtered, sending a small spray of coffee out of his mouth. He quickly wiped at his face and miracled his shirt dry.

“Oh, er … oh. Y-yeah, Angel. ‘Course,” he carefully sat the cup down before he spilled more of it, his heart speeding and his trousers tightening. “You mean, like, right now?”

Aziraphale dabbed at his mouth with his own napkin and then smiled. “If you don’t mind terribly, dear. I know you’ve been wanting to. You’ve been holding back on account of all the … difficulties. But I’m ready. _Really._ I miss you.”

“I’m right here.”

Aziraphale’s ears turned pink. “I mean in … _that way_ , too.”

Crowley’s cheeks flushed. “Oh. Well, just so you know, I haven’t been ‘holding back.’” He pulled a face. “Don’t jump to conclusions, and please, please don’t force yourself if you aren’t ready …”

“I’m more than ready,” the look Aziraphale gave him was hungry, despite the snack he’d just enjoyed. His face then turned a bit doubtful. “That is … if _you_ want to, as well. We don’t have to … I mean, I’ll understand if you aren’t -”

“Not another word,” Crowley stopped him, desperately blurting out, “ _Of course_ I want to! Just look at you. I’ve been half hard since your first lick of that blasted whipped cream on top of the cocoa!”

He immediately regretted his overshare and pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead, groaning, but Aziraphale looked pleased as punch, if still a little pink around the ears.

“Oh, that’s a relief, then,” Aziraphale breathed out.

Aziraphale stood and took Crowley’s hand, giving it a squeeze, and then pulled him to his feet. He slid effortlessly into Crowley's waiting embrace, tilting his head up and parting his lips, silently encouraging Crowley to lean in and taste his mouth. Which he did. Enthusiastically.

By the time they finally pulled apart, they were breathing heavily, hearts pounding. They thought it wise to move their activities to a more comfortable location. In other words, the bed. Clothes were removed, some with painstaking fiddling with buttons and zips, others with an impatient miracle. Crowley ran a hand over Aziraphale’s stomach, down between his legs only to find, well, not much of anything. He drew back, startled, suddenly unsure what exactly he’d been expecting (or hoping for).

“Angel?” he asked, giving Aziraphale a concerned look.

Aziraphale had his eyes closed, but his brows were furrowed. “Sorry, I just … I’m trying to, but … I can’t … decide.” He sighed, slumping.

“It’s fine. We don’t even have to … I mean,” he slithered up and kissed Aziraphale’s on the mouth, “the kissing is more than enough.” He angled his hips, trying not to press his own insistent erection against Aziraphale’s hip, knowing his words would be more convincing if he weren’t trailing precum across the angel’s fleshy thigh.

“It’s not, and we do need to!” Aziraphale grumped, wriggling in frustration in Crowley’s arms. “You needn’t treat me with kid gloves, Crowley. I nearly took out all of England, if you’ll recall. I know very well what I want, I just …” he trailed off with a sigh.

“All right, all right. Well, what would you like then, Angel?” he kissed down Aziraphale’s face, sucking and nibbling just beneath the side of his jaw.

“Oh,” Aziraphale relaxed into the attention Crowley’s teeth were giving his throat. “I want … something different. Something Gabri- I mean, something I haven’t done before. It’ll be our first time, you know.”

 _Oh._ Aziraphale was fretting over some silly notion of virginity and how it might apply to their first act of penetration.

“You really have ‘gone native’ in many ways, haven’t you?” Crowley grinned fondly at him. “You know all that virginity and first time stuff isn’t as important as the humans make it out to be, right? I just want to make love to you in whatever ways will bring you pleasure. All the rest is … well, human stuff, right? They can’t help it. They’re limited.”

“Oh, I know. I just wanted it to be _different_ with you.”

“It will be, Angel, I promise.”

“I know,” Aziraphale admitted softly. Crowley watched as an idea dawned on his face. “You’re right, though, humans are limited. But _we_ aren’t.” He gave the most demonic grin an angel could and then pulled Crowley back down into a kiss.

He guided Crowley’s hand between his legs. There Crowley found a rapidly hardening cock, fat and stubby. He could work with that, he thought with a smile. As he ran his hand down the hot, veined skin, his fingers came into contact with a damp cleft, thick labia on either side. He stilled and Aziraphale chuckled softly against his lips. Crowley recovered quickly, dipping his fingers into the slick cunt beneath the cock.

“Greedy,” he teased, though he was clearly thrilled.

“Yes,” Aziraphale agreed with a shy smile and a blush. “It’s something different. You see, Gabriel lacked an imagination, so he never would have thought it possible. Something new and different just for us two.”

“I love it. It’s perfect, Angel,” Crowley kissed him. “You have no idea how much …”

He smiled toothily and channeled his energy into forming an effort he hadn’t had in millennia, and then drew back to show it off with a cocky smirk. Aziraphale licked his lips, eyes wide.

“ _Oh._ ”

Crowley winked. “I can be _imaginative_ , too.”

He was now sporting a set of hemipenes, one beside the other, both hard and ready, a heavy set of testicles tucked beneath them.

“Well, I’m not sure just how imaginative that is for a reptile. Pretty common, actually.”

“Oy!” Crowley lightly smacked his arm and then they both fell into a giggle fit. “If you don’t want ‘em, Angel, I can put them away …”

“No!” Aziraphale said hurriedly, pulling Crowley down on top of him. “Please,” he whispered into Crowley’s ear, sending a gooseprickly shudder down the demon’s spine. “Can you put them both inside me?”

Crowley made a short, strangled sound and then released a shuddering breath. He reached between them and miracled some slick, coating it over both of his cocks as he stroked himself ready.

“Can you take them both at once?” he asked, voice husky. “One in front and one in the,” he swallowed, “back?”

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale squirmed eagerly beneath him, spreading his legs wide. “Please.”

Aziraphale did a quick miracle to ready himself. He had to tamp down on the uncomfortable, guilty feeling that this was all made easier due to already having been “broken in” by Gabriel. But no. He stopped himself, refusing to fall into that line of thought. This was different. This was Crowley. He’d never been so keen, so hot and aching, for the former Archangel’s touch.

“I’m ready,” he murmured, tilting his hips, and urging Crowley to hurry.

Crowley began by rubbing the heads of his cocks against both entrances, working slowly into Aziraphale’s arse with one while nudging the velvety folds of his cunt open with the other, slowly spreading his cocks apart, one atop the other, and easing them inside both waiting holes.

All at once, Aziraphale was thoroughly _filled_. Not just physically, though he certainly was that, but in every way he could possibly be. Gabriel had always left him feeling empty, but now, he was fully sated on Crowley’s love, the drag of cocks inside him sending sparks of pleasure and joy within him. It was warm, sweet, and wholly satisfying, like a gourmet meal that Aziraphale could (and would) happily gorge himself on for eternity.

Crowley began slowly, struggling a bit with how best to fuck someone when one was sporting two cocks, but he soon found a steady, maddening rhythm that made Aziraphale whine and gasp. Crowley quieted him with kisses and soothing words, running his hands down the angel’s flank and groping at the meat of him in appreciation. He felt his balls tightening as he sped, jack-rabbiting toward his release. Not wanting to finish alone, he took Aziraphale’s stubby cock in his fist and pumped it, eliciting even shriller cries from the angel. When Aziraphale came, spilling across his own stomach, his body pulsing and squeezing Crowley’s cocks inside until the demon couldn’t forestall his own release and both cocks shot off simultaneously. _A two for one cream-pie special,_ Crowley thought with a wicked, satisfied grin.

They didn’t stop there, but made love in every possible way, switching up their efforts as frequently as their positions. Sweet and sensual, fast and frenzied. There were giggles, sighs, moans, and even a few educational grumbles as they mapped each others’ essences, learning every little thing they could, each wrapped up in the other so tightly they became like one entity. Aziraphale’s wings emerged fairly early on while Crowley relentlessly sucked his clit, but Crowley’s came not too long after from watching Aziraphale’s body _bounce_ as he eagerly rode Crowley’s cock. By the end, the room was filled with black and white feathers drifting in the air and settling onto the floor.

After, in the haze of post-coital bliss, Aziraphale sighed contentedly, downright shocked at how lucky he’d been that things had turned out so well in spite of it all. He snuggled up in the crook of Crowley’s arm in the warm bed feeling like nothing could ever be wrong again, though deep down he was sure that couldn’t be true.

He felt Crowley smile against his hair and press a kiss to his head. “Love you, Angel.”

“I love you, too,” his heart was full, filled with joy and relief every time they shared those words. He gave a happy little wiggle. “Oh, I’m so glad things turned out. Isn’t it a relief I didn’t _actually_ fall? Not sure what I was thinking with that idea.”

Crowley pushed up, looking down seriously at Aziraphale. “I agree, and I’m so, so relieved you didn’t. But I do understand why you tried. You were desperate, trying to protect me and yourself. But, Angel, please, _please_ don’t ever pull something like that again.” He shuddered. “That would have been terrible.”

“I know, darling. I won’t! I’m so sorry I worried you. I would have missed you terribly.”

Crowley furrowed his brow. “Well, it’s not like I wouldn’t have seen you again - after the burning, torture, and general initiation suffering you’d have gone through. Not to mention losing Her love and grace. You shouldn’t take it lightly - it’s a terrible fate.” He grimaced.

“Oh, well … I suppose we may have _seen_ each other. But … not like … this.”

Crowley was having trouble following the conversation. “You think demons aren’t supposed to fuck each other?”

Aziraphale squirmed. “Of course not, but … why would you? I’m sure there’s loads more … appealing demons than the one I would have made.”

Crowley just blinked at him.

Aziraphale rattled on, “It’s just … if I weren’t an angel anymore, what would be the point? For you, I mean … to be with me?”

“What would … be the point?”

“Exactly.”

Crowley sat up fiercely, and Aziraphale gave a little grunt of protest at being pushed aside, and then an even louder indignant sound at being grabbed by the shoulders. Crowley’s intense yellow eyes boring into Aziraphale’s hazel ones.

“Aziraphale, what is all this nonsense?”

The angel averted his gaze and pursed his lips, sighing as though Crowley were being particularly thick. “I’m being perfectly clear, my dear. I know that my angelic nature draws you in - that it helps you to love me, to want me. You needn’t explain further. I don’t mind. I’m _glad_.”

Crowley gave him a little shake. “Look at me, Aziraphale. You listen to me, and you listen good.” The demon was clearly very pissed off and a Aziraphale felt a nervous twinge in his belly. He’d _thought_ everything was prefect between them, but he supposed he was often wrong about these things. Crowley continued, practically hissing with intensity, “Let’s get one thing sssstraight. I love you. _You._ Not some angel who just happened to let me into his bed - and thank God or somebody for that, because I never dreamed I’d be so lucky - but I love _you_ , Aziraphale. No matter what. No matter if you’re an angel, a demon, or a … a fucking aardvark!”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but laugh. He had to blink rapidly, feeling tears well in his eyes. “Really, Crowley? Do you really mean that? Because I understand how-”

“You don’t understand a thing, apparently!” Crowley said, squeezing Aziraphale’s shoulders tightly. “No. Matter. What. I love you, forever and always. I always have.”

The tears were falling now and Aziraphale sniffled, “Oh, but … it wouldn’t ruin things for you if I wasn’t … angelic?”

“Of course not, you idiot,” Crowley drew him into a fierce hug. “I love how excited you get about rare, misprinted books. I love that the way you eat a slice of cake is downright sexual. I love that you’re several hundred years behind on fashion and music. I love the fussy way adjust your tie. I love the sounds you make when my tongue’s inside you.”

Aziraphale flushed. “My dear boy …”

“You being an angel is just one tiny part of you. In fact, it’s been more of a hindrance for the last six thousand years since it kept you me from having you like this. Not being allowed to fraternize and all that.”

“We do have an awful lot of making up to do for all that wasted time,” Aziraphale agreed, nodding, warmth blooming in his chest at all of Crowley’s reassurances.

Crowley frowned and huffed. “ _I_ just assumed you wouldn’t want to become a demon since you clearly hold us all in such poor regard.”

“Huh? What? I do not!” Aziraphale gaped at him.

“We’re nothing but … but … defiled, slutty … sluts, right?” His vocabulary was failing him. “That’s what you said. You didn’t expect me to be a virgin since I was a _demon_.”

 _Oh._ Aziraphale vaguely remembered the conversation when he may have implied that demons were _different_ from angels when it came to sexual experience and promiscuity.

“Oh, darling, I didn’t mean … I just … oh!” he sniffled. “I’m so, so sorry!”

Crowley shrugged. “It’s fine, really. I just … it just kind of hurt my feelings, ‘s’all.”

Aziraphale ran his hands up and down Crowley’s arms and then pulled him into an embrace. “Oh, no. Oh no, Crowley. Good heavens, I don’t think anything of the sort about you or demons. I just … wasn’t thinking. I’m so sorry! I love you. You’re perfect and everything I want.”

“Really?”

“Of course!” Aziraphale felt truly awful. “I’m so sorry, my dear. I suppose I did have some rather unfair and incorrect notions. I’m terribly sorry. Really.”

“‘S’ok, Angel. I know you didn’t mean it to come out so badly,” he smiled and pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s lips. “You’re forgiven.”

“Thank you, darling.” Aziraphale smiled, too, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He hesitated before adding, “You do know, Crowley, that you’re forgiven as well, right?”

Crowley shifted uncomfortably, eyes shifting to the side. “Wha'd’ya mean, Angel?”

Aziraphale’s face crumpled, “I know you keep blaming yourself for … for what happened, but please, Crowley. Please believe me that it wasn’t your fault.”

Crowley sighed and took Aziraphale’s hands in his own. “All right. I’ll try to remember. So long as you don’t forget that none of it was _your_ fault either.”

“I’m working on it. We’ll just have to keep reminding each other, I suppose. At least for a while yet.” Aziraphale gave him a shy smile, raising his eyebrows. “I hope that’s all right, my dear? That it won’t be a bother?”

“No! ‘Course not! I don’t mind at all. Not one bit.” He kissed Aziraphale then, firm and reassuring on the mouth.

Aziraphale returned the sentiment adamantly with his own lips. “Good. Because I don’t mind at all either.”

For the first time ever, an angel and a demon absolutely _basked_ in eternity. It had been a long, difficult road thus far, and neither could tell what further joys and hardships were in store for them. However, they were ready to see it all through, content to rely on one another for healing, happiness, and, most of all, love. They would gladly face whatever may come, finally and at long last, _together_. 

**Author's Note:**

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